


Promises of Love, and Death

by Eileniessa



Series: Debts, Deals and Reflections [1]
Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: Book Spoilers, F/M, Family, Fluff and Angst, Game Spoilers, Multi, Mystery, Other, Revenge, Sexual Assault, Suspense, Tension, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-21
Updated: 2017-08-27
Packaged: 2018-11-03 06:29:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 16
Words: 64,880
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10961619
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eileniessa/pseuds/Eileniessa
Summary: [Being Rewritten] A gathering takes place to both discuss and celebrate the events surrounding the wild hunt and the witch hunts, but someone, or something, hides in anticipation, waiting for the opportune moment to collect what he's owed. The price could cost Geralt dearly. Warnings: violence, blood and spoilers (see progolgue for details)





	1. Prologue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [UPDATED CHAPTER (27/02/18): Rewritten

Disclaimer:

This is a work of fan fiction using characters from the books by Andrzej Sapkowski and the game series by CD Projekt Red. I do not claim ownership to any of these characters and have written this fanfiction for entertainment, not financial gain.

Warnings:

**Contains spoilers for the Witcher 3: Wild Hunt and the Witcher book series.**

* * *

_Dear colleagues and students,_

_Mistress Philippa Eilhart and Mistress Margarita Laux-Antille, headmistresses and founders of the newly established Aretuza_   _Magical Academy for Young Ladies on the Isle of Thanedd, cordially invite you to the celebrations taking place in Garstang. Its purpose: to rejoice at the end of the Witch Hunts and to re-acquaint with those who have survived._

_We advise that you attend; this gathering is essential to help Mages re-establish our rightful place and power in society, for the good of the Kingdoms and ourselves. Most importantly, we shall make evident that we shan't be subdued by common fear and hatred, shan't cower at the chanting of fanatics nor be controlled by the whims of Kings and Queens. We adhere to our own power, not to the power of the crown, nor to the power of the gods and their blind followers. At Garstang, we will gather our knowledge and experience of the Witch Hunts. We aim to prevent Mages being used as scapegoats by simpletons who, in their stupidity, fear, suspicion and ignorance, blame simple misfortunes on their betters for they must always place their misery in the hands of others. It gives them hope in their mundane lives._

_Further information about the date and accommodation is provided. We insist that you contact any other Mages and colleagues you know who may not have been considered or contacted. All should attend, if possible._

_Regards, Mistress Philippa Eilhart and Mistress Margarita Laux-Antille._

* * *

_Dear Yennefer and Geralt,_

_I suspect you recently received our letter about the gathering on the Isle of Thanedd. Though I'd hate to draw you away from your exhilarating retirement, the Lodge insists that you both attend. Refusal is out of the question._

_This gathering is not merely to be filled with revelry, but also business. Before the general gathering begins, the Lodge wishes to record a detailed account of the events surrounding the spectres of the Wild Hunt. Knowledge is power; it is essential that these myths be translated into facts, which is why you shall travel to Thanedd without delay._

_You, Yennefer, shall not test the patience of the Lodge again. Your transgressions might have been overlooked, only given the circumstances, but are not forgotten nor forgiven. Your disobedience will not be tolerated - that, I shall ensure._

_I urge you, Witcher, to make her swallow her pride - for both your sakes - or you might soon find yourself without your Sorceress, one of them at least. And fret not, Yennefer; I will be sure to inform Triss of this development, lest your Witcher's bed start to get cold._

_I have attached a list of all those, known to me and the other members of the Lodge, who have first-hand accounts of and experiences with the Wild Hunt; more importantly, those whose accounts we can rely on. Inform us of any and all others you know of that can provide information. I stress 'any and all others', none to be excluded._

_I have personally informed Emperor Emhyr of the importance of Ciri's attendance, and he has agreed to my terms. Perhaps that over your sense of fealty and obligation to the Lodge will hasten what I'm sure will be your most imminent arrival._

_Regards, Philippa Eilhart_

* * *

At first glance, one might have mistaken the field to be covered in a blanket of pure white snow. The multitude of white clovers seemed to have weaved themselves together, shielding the earth from the scorching sun. The field was left completely unblemished, a blank yet mesmerizing canvas. Nothing but an endless sea of flowers, unnaturally cold and still, could be seen no matter which corner of the earth one faced. There were no distant mountains or hills to which the cloud and mist clung to. No smoke trailing into the air, perhaps because there was no breeze to carry it - all was still and quiet. There were no rocks littering the landscape, no fauna or flora adding life to this surreal picture. Nothing except for the white clovers. Pure white, blinding in the sunlight.

The air was thick with their sickling scent. It made his stomach churn.

The leaves did not rustle under his feet, nor did the stems' crunch punctuate the silence. It was preternatural. Unnervingly so. Not even the sounds of his beating heart and frantic breath broke the silence as his feet pounded against the earth. The clovers withered under his feet as he ran, the honeyed air mingling with death and decay. The ground lay scorched and barren behind him and the field stretched into infinity ahead. He was unaware of the destruction in his wake. His presence was a disease to which death was the one certainty.

He frantically waded his way through the sea of flowers and panic was at the helm, calling him to run faster. His movements were becoming wild, dangerous, like an animal caught in a snare; his mind became forgetful of its training and his body had long ago given into fear.

There was something following him, chasing him. He was afraid to cast his eyes upon its shadow.

He was running from it for what seemed like an eternity, but the sun did not move from its throne in the sky and the flowerbed remained unchanging and incessant. It was like a painting. Unchanged. Inescapable. As though the serpent Ouroboros had sunk its teeth into its own tail.

Then, he stumbled.

He braced himself; knees and hands dug into the blackened ground beneath him and its heat began to burn his bare skin and singe his clothes. As his palms collided with the earth they slipped along it, moving some of the mud. It sent a cloud of sweet ash into the air, stinging his eyes and throat and coating his body. He felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. A shiver ran down his spine as a sudden coldness enveloped him. Then, he noticed the darkness.

It took a mere second or two for his mutated pupils to adjust to the unexpected change in light. When they did, he at once saw the cause of this transformation. He was in a forest of flowers. Stems as thick as tree trunks, white flowers at their tips, reached out for the sun, effectively blocking it from his sight. They cast eerie shadows around him that danced and flickered on the surface of the ground which was churned up by a tangle of roots.

He tried to brush off the ash and the feel of death and decay which accompanied it, sweat clinging to his brow. He scratched his bare arms and neck in his haste, but no matter what he did - it clung to him as though it was a part of him, just like the scent of blood which stained his hands. He roared in frustration, two mighty fists pummeled the ground, burning it. Then, his arms fell limp, dragging by his side, fingers barely scraping the dirt. He was lost.

"Help!"

A scream pierced the silence like a knife. He started, eyes wide. He knew that voice, feared that scream. Heart beating so fast he feared it might burst, he whipped his head side to side, eyes scanning the darkness. His inhuman gaze caught a flash of ashen hair. In the blink of an eye, it vanished.

The adrenaline which coursed through his veins electrified him. He leapt to his feet in an instant and pursued the disembodied presence into the sea of thick stems which stretched out before him. A sense of urgency spurred him forwards. Instincts to nurture and aid overcame every part of him – his mind and body. He tried to call out to the figure darting between one stem and the next. To tell her to slow down, to stop, to let her know he was only one step behind, yet forever one step out of reach. But his voice formed only silence. Soon, the figure had slipped from his grasp.

"Go to hell!"

A second cry broke the heavy silence. The voice was quivering with pain but was too proud and stubborn to concede to it. It was a scream that haunted his memories and his nights. It was a scream he felt he knew better than his own, and that fact disgusted him. He'd failed her.

In his peripheral, a burst of black and white streaked past him like lightning. He smelt something which made his heart skip a beat. He took flight after her, perilously traversing the hazardous landscape. Snarled roots reached out to him like claws, snagging on his clothes and slowing him down. He feared for her more than he did his own life. He dreaded the thought of her running down this path alone. She was prone to self-destruction, sacrifice. Once, he had let her go alone, and never a day went by when he didn't regret that. The figure ahead was slight and agile, but not fast, yet the flowers seemed to move at her touch. Leaves, roots and stems leaned towards him, holding him back; he was forced to take alternative routes to reach her following her scent. Then, it was gone and she along with it.

"Aaaaaaah! Stoooop!"

A high-pitched scream reverberated off the looming flowers. It was laced with terror and dread. The sound dragged forth an unpleasant memory, one full of regret. Guilt. He remembered a cold, dark room. Dimeritium and silver. A necessary evil.

He spied a bloody handprint staining the smooth surface of a nearby stem; then, he heard rustling. He flung himself headlong into the labyrinth. The air was fast becoming thick with smoke, amber fireflies drifting like burning snow around him. He passed numerous charred stumps, leaves, roots and stems. In the distance, he saw a blur of auburn hair standing out against the smoulder. He tried to catch up with her, to reach her before her fire toppled the forest around them. A cloud of smoke billowed past him, painting his vision grey. When it cleared, the figure was gone.

"Get back! Take cover, quick!"

The voice was strong and steady, not tinted with any suggestion of distress or desperation. Wildly, he looked around, searching for the voice which had become a lifelong companion. A brother. There was a flash of yellow eyes, a disfigured yet friendly face.

"Great fucking advice!"

A shout packed with sarcasm distracted him. There was a sense of bitterness and contempt behind each word. He whirled around, spinning his head to find the provocative and irksome man. Brother in arms. Another flash of eyes not unlike his own, and a face spoiled by a snarly grin.

"To me, now!"

A woman's command rang through the undergrowth. It seemed unquestionably out of place in this encompassing wilderness. This was the outcome of circumstances, not choice. A glimpse of pale, glossy yellow hair from amidst the stems.

He ran towards it, as did the others. A flare of unnatural light. Like apparitions, the figures vanished.

"Noooooooo!"

This time, two cries broke the eerie hush. One was low and gruff, a complete contrast to the other, which was melodramatic and clear, neither discernibly masculine nor feminine.

Two shapes briefly crossed his path and vision, one tall, one small. There was the sound of a swinging axe and a streak of garish purple and pink. He followed in pursuit. He leapt over fallen stems the size of tree trunks and wished he had his own  _Sihil_ in hand. A gift. He felt he'd need it now. There was a crack, a flower plummeted towards him. He dived to the side, nimbly rolling away from danger. But in those few seconds, the figures were gone.

Now, there was nothing.

A deafening silence rang in his ears. His knees weak, he fell to the floor, kneeling in the decay. The silent cries and pleas of the spectres which haunted him filled his mind. He felt their pain as though it was his own. He saw their hot lifeblood dripping from his bloodied hands. A sense of betrayal pierced his heart. Of blame. Hate.

The blood began to pool around him like a warm bath. No matter how much poured to the ground, his hands were forever coated in it. The smell made his stomach churn. He threw his eyes shut.

Warm tendrils of sunlight wrapped themselves around him, soothing his cold skin and muscles, but failing to banish the icy dread which consumed him from the inside. Light forced its way, unwelcome, through his eyelids. Begrudgingly, he opened them.

The ocean of white flowers no longer belittled him. In the place where the snowy field had once been, was a sea of yellow flowers with star-like petals. There was a danger to the sharp edges of the bird's foot trefoil. It was a foreboding flower, one of the few with a negative meaning attached to its colourful petals.

He heard the sound of running water. He turned his eyes up from the ground and saw a fountain before him, jutting up from the flowers. Small gargoyles dug their stone claws into the podium at its centre spurting water into the basin. He leaned over the edge of the fountain. The pool was calm and endless. Eerie nothingness. The water was as black as night. It took his eyes a while to adjust. His reflection became clearer, gradually.

He gasped. His leg muscles tightened. He gripped the edge of the fountain with clammy hands. He saw his eyes; they were full of fear - raw and primitive. Then, they vanished. The face looking back at him…It was not his own. He gasped and leapt away, heart pounding. But he could not escape it.

The flowers, the sky, the sun, the ground, all of it was gone. Mirrors surrounded all four corners of the world, the sky and the earth. The field had been replaced by another eternity. He closed his eyes. He could not bear to see it, to acknowledge it. But, he felt it. Felt the shadow clinging to him, and it whispered to him.

"Open your eyes, Geralt of Rivia. See your fate and the death sentence you have hung above their heads."

Slowly, his eyelids began to flutter open, defying his will. He looked in the mirror. A figure stepped out from behind him. Their eyes met.

His face burned.

* * *

The Witcher awoke with a start. Instinctively, and with ingrained movements, he reached for one of the two swords lying, customarily, beside the bed. Heart pounding against his ribcage, sweat drenching his body, muscles twitching, he pulled the weapon free from its scabbard. The runes decorating the silver surface of the blade pulsated with power.

His eyes scanned the room quickly. There was nothing there. He checked on the sleeping woman beside him. He listened.

Geralt heard Yennefer's melodic heartbeat, and he honed his senses on it. He inhaled deeply, drawing in her scent. Lilac and gooseberries. The presence of her beside him, unharmed and safe, instantly worked its magic on him. Geralt felt his body begin to relax, his muscles loosen and his heart fall back down to its usual rhythm.

Her preferred her like this – sleeping. Here, she was untouched by the worries and burdens that haunted her waking hours. Raven locks spilling around her, unkept and stormy. Her face serenely beautiful, a small smile tugging at the corner of her luscious lips. Geralt hastened to put his weapon away and was careful not to disturb her pleasant rest. Besides, it was a foolish dream, likely forgotten by morning.

As Geralt lay down beside his beloved, enveloping himself in her familiar and comforting scent and touch, he quickly forgot his vision. Nor did he remember the white and yellow flowers left on the windowsill, or their smell of honeyed death. The dream was foolish to him because he did not understand its meaning. Its Promise.

* * *

Sam Miller -  _Apocalyptic Skies:_ **Chapter 1, Winds Howling**

The darkness wind and chill

all point to the end times,

where green grass will never return

and the sun will never again

show its bright face.

Nights like this

are a spiritual experience.

The air speaks to me

in ways the sunlight never can.

I feel the apocalypse every time it storms.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys! I really hoped you enjoyed my first ever read, I've been so anxious to publish something for ages and am glad to finally be getting around to it, though admittedly not at the best of times considering I have exams (A-levels) in June, so I apologise now for slow updates, but I felt I needed to do something to end the monotony which has been my life since January (because that's how long I've been revising!)
> 
> Constructive criticism is welcome, I wish to improve and can only do that by identifying my short-comings.
> 
> I'd be interested in getting beta readers, if you have played the games and read the books, or are not afraid or spoilers, feel free to contact me on here or Tumblr, also under Eileniessa.
> 
> Have a pleasant day!


	2. Winds Howling

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Updated: rewritten, changes in dialogue]

Sam Miller - Apocalyptic Skies:  **Chapter 1, Winds Howling**

The darkness wind and chill

all point to the end times,

where green grass will never return

and the sun will never again

show its bright face.

Nights like this

are a spiritual experience.

The air speaks to me

in ways the sunlight never can.

I feel the apocalypse every time it storms.

* * *

It would have been an understatement to say Geralt had been surprised when Yennefer agreed to leave on the day Philippa had…recommended, without a moment's hesitation. Especially when one considered the fact that, by doing so, the couple would arrive at least a week before the Wild Hunt gathering commenced. He tried not to trouble himself with questions as to why she had agreed, but the suggestion that Yennefer had taken Philippa's threat to heart did cross his mind regardless. He was sure, without a doubt, that the Sorceress would have eyes on them at Corvo Bianco to ensure they departed at the time she wished. Her strongly worded letter, for lack of a better turn of phrase, made it evident that any act of disobedience - despite how trivial it might seem - would be met with severe and disproportionate consequences.

Geralt of Rivia should, of course, have known better. He blamed Toussaint's unholy optimism.

After several days of travel, the glare of the sun and its heat lessening with each mile they made, Yennefer suggested a brief detour to Vizima. It was, after all, en route, and they had a handful of days to spare. Besides, the Witcher longed to see what had become of the city, now that Emhry Var Emries had restored the former land of Temeria. A desire that Yennefer, of course, knew and mercilessly used against him.

They spent the good part of a day idly wandering around the city, which was still undergoing renovation and restoration. The streets bustled, and the markets flowed with goods. They enjoyed the taste of Northern food and missed the taste of Southern wine.

The next day, Geralt packed his bags, ready to get back on track. However, the sudden, though pleasant, appearance of Dandelion, Zoltan and Priscilla, meant that he was going nowhere.

The Bards happily announced that they had travelled to Vizima on the Sorceress' behest. She had promised them some time spent in the city with Geralt and her before, as a group, they travelled to the Isle of Thanedd. Yennefer hastened to point out that not only had Zoltan been witness to the Wild Hunt spectres, during the battle of Kaer Morhen, but that Dandelion had been as well during their first encounter not far from Gors Velen. She insisted that Philippa had, after all, requested 'any and all' witnesses. Geralt noted, however, that she failed to account for the 'reliable' part.

They spent a few days and nights by Vizima's beautiful lake, and Yennefer took some time to help heal Priscilla's voice. The number of days leading towards the gathering slowly diminished, Geralt became increasingly agitated. He kept an eye peeled to the sky and cursed the fact that Yennefer, whenever Philippa was involved, always had to rock the boat.

* * *

"Stop fretting so much Geralt, please. It doesn't suit you," Yennefer reprimanded. The Witcher looked up from the task which had been preoccupying him for the evening, his newly polished silver sword gleaming almost as brightly as the diamonds on the Sorceress' star. Yennefer was looking at him over the rim of her book with a mixture of reproach and amusement. She was lying, legs outstretched, on the bed with her black silk nightgown hitched up revealing enough pale skin to send a pleasant shiver down his spine. Geralt's grip on the blade tightened slightly and Yennefer smiled slyly. "Besides, you're sure to blind yourself with that sword if you do, and that would be a shame."

Geralt smiled, but only briefly. "We should leave tomorrow, Yen," he suggested, trying to sound casual. He could feel her piercing violet eyes on the back of his head as he sheathed his sword and placed it on his lap.

When there was no immediate reply, Geralt tensed, bracing himself. When she finally answered, what felt like hours later, he could only partly release his breath. "You have nothing to fear from Philippa," claimed the Sorceress. Geralt cursed, he should have guarded his thoughts more closely. He'd gotten too used to Yennefer reading his mind. In moments of bliss, he'd learnt to enjoy this intimate connection, a way to share his heart in a way like no other, and there had been so many of those days. The Witcher's barriers had fallen and he was projecting feelings he didn't want to burden her with. "I've yet to see anything come of her threats, despite how numerous they are. Besides, they weren't aimed at you, Geralt."

And that's part of the problem, Geralt thought. He sighed, but as the topic was out in the open he took the risk of probing it further. "But this threat is more than just a personal vendetta, Yen. The Lodge-"

"Unlike Phillipa," she snapped, narrowing her eyes dangerously, "the rest of the Lodge isn't selective in their memory. I never owed them anything, Geralt, especially not obedience, yet it was I who won them amnesty. Should they dare try something against me, I will be sure to remind them of that fact."

Finality hinged itself to her words, and silence settled. Geralt, his back to Yennefer, focused on the world outside their door. He watched light and shadow prance on the stone tiles of their rented tavern room and tried to imagine exactly what was occurring on the other side of the door. His thoughts, however, did not wish to obey his command and instead wandered back towards the thin ice.

He heard an exasperated sigh. "Geralt, please, your brooding is making it exceptionally difficult for me to get even the remotest sense of pleasure from reading this shitty novel," she scolded, moving around on the bed. "Either set aside your worries or leave. We'll be there in time for their important meeting, but at the same time everyone else will arrive, rather than the ridiculous time they implied." There was a momentary pause. "Do you really think, Geralt, that the Lodge expected me to arrive early? If I walked through the gates of Gors Velen with my head bowed in submission, Philippa would likely die of a heart attack and the others would kill me on the spot thinking I was a doppler. Hence, there is no logical explanation for your fretting. So, cease."

The Witcher didn't say anything. He listened to the tavern's merriment as the hour grew late. The carefree voices of Zoltan and Dandelion in the next room called for more vodka and food. Despite Yennefer's warnings, he could not focus on anything else but his fears. He knew that Yennefer could look after herself, should anything truly happen, but he regretted the fact that she might have to. They'd finally found - made - peace, and he wanted it to last. Which is why, if it wasn't for Yennefer's sake, or for Ciri's, he'd be done with the Lodge. He was fed up with pissing into the wind, and wherever the Lodge of Sorceresses was, there was bound to be a storm.

He felt a pair of soft lips kiss the back of his neck. A warm body moulded against his back and a pair of arms snaked around his waist and chest. Yennefer pressed her face against his, her hair tumbling down his chest and her scent enveloping him. As strange as it was to imagine and as foolish as it sounded, Geralt felt the crushing weight of his worry begin to melt at her touch.

"From anyone else, I'd scorn such concern, but from you…never." He felt her small hand intertwine with his own, a perfect match. He smiled, and this time it didn't fade. "We'll leave tomorrow morning, I promise, Geralt. I shan't tempt your worry any longer, that would be cruel of me. Besides," she traced kisses up his neck and he closed his eyes, "the sooner we get to Thanedd, the sooner someone can fully restore Priscilla's voice. I long to hear the song which has so inspired you," she purred into his ear.

"It is a beautiful song, Yen, but pales in comparison to the real thing." Yennefer laughed softly at his awkward compliment, as she always did. Geralt tenderly kissed the back of her hand. "I love you, Yen."

"And I you," her free hand cupped his face, drawing it closer. "Just one more reason why we will reach Thanedd."

True to her word, they set out the next morning without a moment delay. Their ride to Gors Velen was an enjoyable one. The travellers were blessed with good weather and welcoming taverns and inns. At the sight of Dandelion's lute and the Sorceress' bulging coin purse, people were more than accommodating, though with some reluctance in the Witcher's case.

Not a single night was spent in bad company, or in the cold night air. Until they were but a day's ride from the portside city.

* * *

"Wind's howling," commented the Witcher, talking to no one in particular as he looked at the looming clouds in the distance. "There's no avoiding that storm."

"Are you sure?" asked Dandelion, a hand to his forehead, shielding his eyes from the sun.

Geralt shook his head. "We're too far forward to go back, and too far back to go forward."

"We might still be able to make it to the village we stayed at last night. I'd really rather not appear before the Lodge soaked to the bone."

"No, Dandelion," he repeated more forcefully, looking over his shoulder at the Bard. "We can't turn back, or we'll be late. Keep a look out for shelter."

"I still think-"

"No!"

Zoltan urged his horse forwards. "Thank you, Dandelion, for your contribution," he said gruffly, "but I agree with the Witcher. I imagine the Sorceresses will be more peeved off with lateness, as opposed to the smell of damp clothes." He looked at Yennefer for confirmation; she nodded. "So, we'd best concentrate on finding shelter rather than bickering. Besides," he chuckled, patting his horse, "we've had worse nights, Dandelion."

"I agree with them, Dandelion," said Priscilla.

Dandelion scoffed. "I'm still not convinced."

Geralt closed his eyes. He was beginning to get a headache. The Bard had an uncanny knack for inducing them. Beside him, he heard Yennefer chuckle under her breath. "Dandelion, if you don't stop yapping, I think Geralt is going to burst a vein," she quipped, without bothering to look at the man. She was preoccupied with straightening out a crinkle in her tight, short-sleeved white blouse. which reached just below the top of her black, leather riding trousers. She was also simultaneously distracting Geralt rather effectively. "Honestly, I'm not sure what the fuss is about, but, if it will get you to shut up - because I was so enjoying the peace - then I will dry your clothes with magic."

He went silent, a clear indication that he was considering her proposition. "Fine," he replied.

Geralt sighed with relief as he and Yennefer pushed ahead of the group. "Thanks. I'd really rather not have to argue with Dandelion right now." She inclined her head and the Witcher chuckled. "You're even better at coping with him now than I am. Funny how things turn out."

"Yes, well… Though it would bring me great satisfaction to use my magic on him in…other ways, I daresay you wouldn't approve of any of them, and I see no point in forcing you to stand in the crossfire, Geralt." He looked at her but didn't say anything; somehow, thanking her didn't seem quite right. "Don't look quite so surprised though, Geralt. My capacity for dealing with your dim-witted friend might have increased, but it is not boundless. I will be happy to remind him of that fact should the need arise."

Geralt chuckled and responded the only way he knew how. "I adore you, Yen."

* * *

As darkness began to descend and the clouds rumbled, Geralt spotted a large cave entrance at the foot of a hill. They huddled inside, securing their horses on various stalagmites. Before long, the wind was raging around them and the heavens opened. While the mouth of the cave was large and kept them safe from the wet, it offered no such protection from the blustering wind.

However, as luck would have it, about ten metres in, the cave began to narrow, and towards the back was a passageway. Conveniently, it appeared to lead further into the hill and underground. In hopes of finding a cavern for them to rest in, the group descended, Geralt scouting just up ahead and Yennefer leading the rest with her magic. Eventually, they caught up with him.

"I hear something," said the Witcher cautiously, holding his hand up for silence.

"Well, I suppose we'll have to take your word for it, Geralt," said Yennefer, folding her arms, a ball of light flickering beside her like an overgrown firefly.

"I'll go look. Stay here," he added, looking at the Sorceress.

Yennefer rolled her eyes. "Fine, but if I hear a kerfuffle, Witcher, I'm coming after you."

* * *

The winding path carried Geralt deeper underground, and with each step, the noise grew louder. Eventually, the passage ended, opening out into a ledge which overlooked a small cavern several metres below. Here, he found the origin of the disturbance.

A rock troll, six feet tall and equally as wide, was standing in the cavern. Though his back was to the Witcher, Geralt doubted that the monster would have noticed his presence even if he'd walked through a passage right beside him. At present, the bulking form was utterly absorbed in his activity, that of walloping the wall of the cavern with alternating great stone fists. To mix things up a bit, the Troll would also occasionally thump himself instead. It was a godawful racket.

Confident that no other monsters were lurking in the shadows, Geralt descended into the cavern, following a steep and jagged path cut into the cave wall. When the path ended, he dropped down the last foot or two before approaching the cave's other occupant.

"Greetings," said Geralt, standing just behind the Troll with his hands in plain sight. There was no response. "Greetings," he repeated.

The Troll turned around, and Geralt could see that his fists were bleeding. "You Witcherman Badman. You Bert swashykill come for," he grovelled, waving his arm and bobbing slightly.

"You're right, I am a Witcher, but I mean you no harm." He held up his hands in the universal gesture of surrender, but the Troll seemed only to get more agitated. He threw his head from side to side.

"Badman Witcherman. You wallopy smashhurt Bert." He jabbed a balled fist into his chest several times; it was like stone scraping against stone. "Bertymonster Witchie thing here kill. Bert careno." The Troll turned his back on Geralt and began banging his head against the stone. Geralt smelt blood.

"Maybe I can help, Bert. What's wrong?"

"Badmonster! Wooshie Slip, shiny stone, gone, gone. Die Bertymonster!" he wailed. He then picked up a rock and smashed it over his head. It cracked clean in two.

As the monster stepped back, Geralt got a closer look at the blood-stained wall. Except, it wasn't that. A boulder, now somewhat fractured, was blocking what appeared to be a passageway. The Witcher was at a loss, and the Troll had skulked away to find more rocks to smash over his head.

"Geralt, what on earth is he doing?" Yennefer was peering down at them from the overhanging ledge. He could see the others reluctantly gathered behind her. Without waiting for an answer, she started moving down to join him.

"Patient as ever."

"You were taking too long. Besides," she smiled mischievously at him, "I know you love that about me."

"Only when it doesn't end in trouble," he replied, offering her his hand to help her down. "Bert's 'shiny stone' is stuck behind that boulder." Yennefer raised an eyebrow.

"That's what this bloody racket is about," exclaimed Zoltan. "Clearly must have meant a lot to the bugger." Geralt nodded in agreement. Something new for the bestiary, he thought as they watched the peculiar show.

"This is pathetic," said Yennefer as Bert switched tactics, this time smashing the rock with his face, rather than the top of his head.

The Sorceress glided over to the boulder. Geralt saw her brow furrow in concentration as she raised her arms before her. With a few precise and nimble movements, her fingers throbbed with magic. She directed the energy towards the obstacle and a faint blue outline appeared around the boulder. It began to move, pebbles and dust falling around it as it was gradually freed.

Yennefer hadn't even had the chance to place the boulder down before Bert haphazardly barged past her and into the passageway. He was consumed by the darkness, though his footsteps still sent shocks through the floor. Now that the coast was clear, the others joined them.

"Never knew you to have a soft spot for Trolls, Yennefer," said Dandelion, eyes rooted to the floor as he traversed the descent, "it's touching."

Yennefer waved a hand in the air, as though wafting away the comment. "Oh please, Dandelion, I merely wish to rest; an outcome which seemed improbable had that escapade been allowed to continue," she replied, running a hand through her hair to dislodge some of the dust clinging to it. It was a pointless gesture, but one Geralt knew she did out of habit more than anything, and he found it endearing.

"Are you sure you're not starting to go soft in retirement, Yennefer?" ventured Dandelion. Geralt saw Priscilla throw a nasty look in the Bard's direction when he failed to help her down.

"Is it the retirement though, or is it simply old age and isolation from politics at the world's end?" Said Zoltan.

"It's…" aware that Yennefer was watching him out of the corner of her eye, he considered this for a moment. "It's…something more."

Consciously, Geralt filled his mind with certain thoughts. Memories of the long hours they spent in the vineyards, of the nights when they fell asleep under the stars and of the days they spent renovating their home. He conjured up these pleasing images in his mind's eye and projected them as best he could. Yennefer turned to him and smiled, and even though she was in full view of the others, he could see in her eyes that she held nothing back.

Her star twinkled as she looked at him and with a smile still painted on her lips, she spoke an incantation. The sphere of light which hovered over them started to grow and when it had almost doubled in size the shimmering ball divided. Several smaller pieces of light now whizzed around Yennefer's shoulders and at the snap of her fingers they flew in different directions across the cavern. The light appeared to merge with the stone, crystallising into rocky gemstones which illuminated the room with warm blue-white light.

Priscilla gasped and stared at them with wide eyes. "How beautiful they are. Thank you, Yennefer."

"Marvellous," said Zoltan, nodding at the Sorceress in gratitude. He wandered over to a boulder and pulled himself on top, feet dangling over the side. "See Dandelion, it shan't be too bad after all. There might be no soft beds, but at least we have a roof and warmth."

Dandelion seemed reluctant to agree. "What about the Troll?"

"I'm sure he won't bother us, Dandelion, not now that he has his 'shiny stone'," said Geralt, "and if he does, Yennefer can negotiate with him."

"I've certainly had plenty of practice dealing with idiots," she cast a sideways glance at Dandelion but the Bard was too busy trying to clear a spot on the floor to notice. "Though, they usually refer to themselves as Kings."

Zoltan chuckled. "A truer word was never spoken, but come, let us talk of another matter of politics." He looked between Yennefer and Geralt. "What can we expect from this meeting with the Lodge? I'm glad to say I'm not particularly well versed in politics or in mage affairs, but I'd wager that they wouldn't take any misdemeanours well." An understatement, thought Geralt bitterly, but Zoltan's query got him thinking, and he didn't like where it was leading. The Witcher hesitated.

Altruism wasn't the origin of this gathering, and that was perhaps the only thing he was certain of. The Lodge hadn't been formed on the basis of doing something for the greater good, but on the shared understanding that magic needed to be protected - something which, noticeably, its members personally benefited from. He wasn't sure exactly how this central aim was interlinked with the Wild Hunt, but he didn't care to know. What Geralt was concerned about was whether or not he, Yennefer and Ciri would later regret attending.

"Commands and expectations of obedience, that's what lies in wait," Yennefer answered for him, interrupting Geralt's thoughts. "Do what they want, and you'll have nothing to fear."

Zoltan grumbled. "So, we're to be lapdogs for them."

"Precisely," she said, her high heels tapping loudly against the stone as she turned her back on the group. Geralt watched the sway of her hips as she walked back the way they had come. She placed both hands on the small ledge where the path back up began.

"And what of you, Yennefer?" asked Dandelion casually, but something in his tone was off. Geralt didn't like it. "Do you have anything to fear?"

"No, Dandelion, I do not," she replied, half turning to him, one hand still on the stone. "Though quite why any of that is your concern alludes me."

Yennefer and Dandelion were staring at each other across the room. Zoltan and Priscilla were fidgeting uncomfortably, casting weary looks at the Witcher. The latter gently tugged Dandelion's sleeve, but he paid her no attention.

"Because, Yennefer," he drawled, "I would appreciate knowing whether or not you intend to drag my friend here," he waved a hand in Geralt's direction, but didn't take his eyes off her, "into more trouble."

Yennefer's eyes narrowed and the air became dense and heavy. "Why would I, Dandelion, when you fulfil that role so dutifully?" she said coldly.

While most men would have the common sense to take one look at the Sorceress' demeanour and desist, Dandelion was not gifted with such reasoning. He never knew when to keep his mouth shut. On such occasions, Geralt regretted that Dandelion had regained his voice. "At least I don't do it on purpose,."

Geralt saw Yennefer's hand flinch slightly, tracing a line in the dirt only noticeable to him. She then whirled around to face him fully, hair wreathing around her. The Witcher clenched and unclenched his fist. "What exactly is that supposed to mean, Bard!" she hissed, hands gripping her hips. Several of the lights pulsated violently and Geralt had to shield his eyes.

"Dandelion," warned the Witcher through gritted teeth, but his friend waved him off. Whenever it came to matters concerning Yennefer, his friend had never much cared for his opinion.

"This wouldn't be the first time that the Lodge has tried to use Geralt like a tool," Dandelion replied calmly, his head too high in the air to see the thin ice he was walking across. "Nor would it be the first time you have either." Geralt was sure he felt his medallion vibrate against his chest. His eyes flicked towards Yennefer.

The Sorceress hadn't moved a muscle, but she was shaking infinitesimally. "Don't you dare talk about matters you know nothing about, Dandelion," she seethed, fiddling with her star. The sight gave Geralt a virtually irrepressible desire to punch his so-called friend.

The Bard threw his arms up in response. "I think I know-" Several of the crystals shattered, a wave of purple sparks bursting from their prisons. While the others instinctively tried to protect themselves with their arms, Yennefer didn't flinch. Not even when some of the magic brushed her bare neck.

"Do not confuse your misguided assumptions and self-justifications with fact, you fool," she screamed, her hand now completely clasping the star. Geralt put a hand on the wall to steady himself as the stones vibrated. "You know nothing, Dandelion, and I am not in the habit of explaining myself to people who deserve no explanation."

Geralt could feel the vibrations coming up through the floor now, and small pieces of stone and dust were falling from the walls and ceiling. "Yen!" he called, but she was still glowering at Dandelion. He took a few seconds to focus and dilate his pupils, then he walked over. "Yen," he said firmly, "Yen." He placed a hand on her arm and felt his skin tingle.

She jerked her head, and their eyes connected. The lights dimmed, and the vibrations stopped. Yennefer pulled away from him and turned her back. There was a flash and she vanished, reappearing above his head and briskly walking into the passageway.

Even with the Sorceress gone, the crystals burned with magic, but theirs wasn't the only unnatural force beneath the hill. The stones shuddered with anticipation. He waited patiently for the right moment. He had time.

* * *

Kudrat Dutta Chaudhary - Laiza: Sometimes the end is only a Beginning:  **Chapter 2, Rumbling**

"But whenever tragedy strikes, one is left either to die or with a plethora of ifs and buts to ponder over."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I felt so overwhelmed by the positive feedback that I just had to post the first proper chapter, and as luck would have it my parents forced me to have a day off revision (though I'm sure that's not supposed to happen, isn't it supposed to be the other way around?) so here it is. Really hoped you enjoyed it! (Also, I just realised Bert appears to be a weird combination of Dobby the House Elf from Harry Potter and Gollum from Lord of the Rings, oops.)
> 
> As always constructive criticism welcome.


	3. Rumbling

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [UPDATED - rewritten and one scene replaced.]

Kudrat Dutta Chaudhary - Laiza: Sometimes the end is only a Beginning: **Chapter 2, Rumbling**

"But whenever tragedy strikes, one is left either to die or with a plethora of ifs and buts to ponder over."

* * *

Geralt wanted to go after her, but he fought to repress every instinct commanding him to climb up the path and follow her. He begrudgingly accepted that Yennefer needed a couple of minutes, at least, to cool off. But even knowing this, it was still a struggle to let her walk alone. He could still hear her rapid heartbeat, and it was drifting further and further away.

"What?" Dandelion's sudden exclamation, which cut through the tension, distracted him momentarily. Geralt was too preoccupied with listening attentively to Yennefer's waning presence to give the fool much attention. In fact, he would have preferred to have tuned him out altogether.

Dandelion was looking, exasperated, at Priscilla, who was pinching the bridge of her nose and had her eyes closed. "Really, Dandelion," was all she said in reply, half-sighing.

"Well, somebody had to say it," he huffed defensively, crossing his arms over his chest. Geralt tensed. He tried to think ahead, picturing their reunion with Ciri in Gors Velen and the light at the end of this long night, but Dandelion's voice still broke through. "The Lodge scorns Yennefer, and that's her business, but it's not fair for her to drag Geralt into all of this. I-"

"Tell me, Dandelion. Do you care for my own opinion as little as you do the facts?" interjected Geralt surly.

The Bard looked at him, fingers lightly tapping his arms. "I…" he stuttered, biting his bottom lip. Dandelion broke eye contact and started to adjust the buttons on his doublet and sleeves. He didn't look up when he spoke, and that gave Geralt a minute sense of satisfaction. "I suppose-"

"Because, Dandelion," he interrupted again, slowly walking over until he was looming above the other man. Out of the corner of his eye, Geralt saw Zoltan open then close his mouth, and he started to rub his axe with a piece of cloth. "If you'd cared to ask my opinion, I would have told you that Yen has done nothing wrong. I would have explained to you," he continued, breathing heavily through his flared nostrils, "exactly what her unpleasant history is with the Lodge to prove it. A captive, Dandelion, not a member… A captive." Dandelion began to shrink, he cast a sideways glance at Priscilla but soon looked away. "I would have told you, Dandelion, that the reason the Lodge scorn Yen, what you have assumed she has done wrong, is being a Mother to Ciri." Dandelion's head drooped, and his hand dropped limply into his lap.

Geralt watched him squirm under his gaze for a while. Then, he slowly pivoted on his heels and turned his back. After several steps, Dandelion spoke. "I'm sorry, Geralt," he murmured to his back, "I shouldn't have…assumed."

The Witcher didn't respond, he just kept walking away. He'd grown sick and tired of these assumptions over the years. At times, he felt that the life he and Yennefer had built was more at risk of being torn apart by those they called friends than anything else. What did they have to do, he thought, what did Yen have to do for their opinion to ever change? He'd racked his brain more than once in search of this answer, but it forever escaped him. Geralt began to wonder if such an answer even existed. Perhaps their relationship was doomed to be forever tainted with the poison of his friends' bitterness.

When he reached the slope, Geralt paused for a moment. "No, Dandelion," he said, his tone superficially calm. "You shouldn't have, but some things never change."

He left in silence.

* * *

The crisp and icy night air chilled her. Yennefer wrapped her arms around herself and felt the goosebumps on her bare skin, she was beginning to shiver. The burn on her neck stung painfully, but she didn't care. To be honest, it suited her mood seamlessly.

The sharp stones jutting out of the cave wall scratched and dug into her soft flesh as she leant against them, facing out into the storm. She was close enough for the wind to send shivers up her spine and rustle her hair furiously, but without getting drenched. That was the one thing she was not prepared to put up with, but she did enjoy the little drizzle tickling her skin.

Yennefer listened to the sounds of the raging storm outside, but her mind was not truly with her. It had floated off into more dangerous waters, and she was struggling against the tide. She didn't care about what Dandelion had said in the slightest - or at least she tried to convince herself of that - but he brought up things she'd rather not think about… But which she was finding hard to disregard.

A stone skidded across the cave floor and Yennefer flinched, but she didn't turn around. Instead, she settled herself closer to the wall and hugged her sides tighter. Part of her hoped he'd go away, that he'd not dared follow her to begin with, but Yennefer wasn't all too sure she wanted to be alone. She supposed only time would tell.

While the Witcher could have easily snuck up on her, not allowing her the time to make up her mind, he rarely did so, and she appreciated it. The Sorceress listened to the sounds of his approaching footsteps until he was right behind her. When he tried to wind his arms around her waist, she let him, shifting her arms to accommodate him. Carefully, Geralt pulled her closer until their bodies were pressed together. Yennefer felt his heat slowly begin to seep into her and she tried to repress her shivering. She knew Geralt could still feel it anyway, but he didn't comment. Instead, he rested his chin comfortable on the top of her head and hugged her waist. Yennefer pushed back against his chest.

She lost track of time, moments like this always addled her mind like that. Yennefer was finding it increasingly challenging to concentrate on her degrading thoughts - especially when Geralt began tracing light kisses over her back, shoulders and neck. Part of her wanted to be angry at him for disturbing her. The other half, however, won her over and moaned softly and said nothing as he nosed some of her hair out of the way. She felt her body begin to unwind. Eventually, Geralt managed to ease her away from the wall as she shifted her body weight to rest against him completely. Tenderly, he ran his arms over the faint markings and scratches on her upper arm.

Still, the Witcher said nothing, but she could still sense his worry breaching into her consciousness. Yennefer sighed, Geralt's patience was infuriatingly effective against her. Another thing she despised…and loved.

"You, Ciri…the opinions of those close to me, those are the ones that matter," said Yennefer quietly, focusing on a spot in the distance to divert her attention away from the concern he was emanating. It made her feel uncomfortable, even guilty, perhaps. "But I'd be lying to you, Geralt, if I said that I've not grown weary listening to the opinion of…certain others."

He didn't say anything at first, but she felt one of his large and calloused hands briefly brush her arm as he pressed it against her hand. "I know, Yen," he sympathized, "and I'm sorry."

"You, Geralt, have nothing to apologise for," she responded quickly, closing her eyes as she tried to fight the urge to shiver.

"But I want to, Yen, because… I can't promise it will ever change."

Yennefer sighed. Keeping her eyes closed, she turned her head to the side and buried it in his shirt. "I know…"

* * *

The resignation in her voice troubled Geralt deeply. It wasn't right that Yennefer should simply have to accept the ways things were, but the fact remained that not even Rivia had been able to make any agreeable changes. Geralt doubted that anything in the foreseeable future would, not even the news they had to share at the gathering, would ever change the minds of a certain few.

Geralt didn't know what to say. He held Yennefer tightly against his chest. Her skin was unpleasantly cold and she was shaking against him, but he was reluctant to guide her away. Only when she stirred in his arms did the Witcher take that as his cue to move, they broke contact but lingered close to one another as they retreated further into the mouth of the cave.

Geralt retrieved some furs and water from their saddlebags and joined the Enchantress in the corner. She was sitting on the floor with her knees pressed up against her chest and Geralt saw that her eyes were squinting into the darkness of the tunnel, but when he approached she looked away. Neither of them said anything as the Witcher sat beside her, placing a cold, damp cloth on her neck then swaddling them both up in furs. When he was finished, Geralt gently tugged Yennefer's shoulder towards him and she allowed herself to fall to his side.

He kissed her crown as she rested her head on his shoulder. "Whatever they say, Yen," he whispered, holding her hand under the furs, "this is where I want to be."

The slight pressure on his shoulder was alleviated as Yennefer raised up her head and with a cold but soft hand guided his face towards her. "That…" she purred, her hot breath brushing his face, "…I also know." Geralt closed his eyes as their lips touched. When he opened them again, Yennefer was smiling at him, and it was a smile that made her violet eyes sparkle.

Her hand drifted down his body, wrapping itself around his muscular arm as she settled back down. Carefully, Geralt pulled the furs back over her shoulders where they'd slipped down and kept his arm there, draped around her.

* * *

The Witcher was awoken from his semi-dreamlike state, however, about an hour later. Small vibrations were rippling through the cave floor.

"Yen," he whispered, gently shaking her shoulders. Unenthusiastically, her eyes flittered upon and she blinked several times at him. "I think we're about to have company."

She furrowed her brow. "Geralt…" she moaned almost inaudibly, closing her eyes again.

"Yen," he pleaded, shifting. The movement jolted her a little bit, and she cursed under her breath brushing hair out of her face.

Yennefer stifled a yawn when he helped her to her feet, hugging the furs tightly and rubbing her temples. Geralt had never known someone to take as long as Yennefer did to come back to the world of the living, as he half-carried her away from the corridor.

"Geralt…" she moaned again, holding her eyes wide open for a couple of seconds to keep them from falling shut. She was looking at him with her head tilted to one side. "What…" she trailed off and looked down the passageway, then back at the Witcher who nodded.

Something large and heavy was lumbering towards them. They waited, and eventually Bert the Troll emerged from the darkness. "Magic Elfie!" he boomed across the cave, his merry voice silencing the storm. Geralt smirked. "Magic Elfie!" he repeated, awkwardly wandering over to the pair with an almost unnoticeable - if at all possible - spring in his weighty steps.

"Yes, hello. What do you want?" greeted Yennefer slowly, rolling her eyes at Geralt.

"Bert tell Elfie good. Nice Magic Elfie, clap shiny stone, Bert." He raised a hammer-like fist to her midsection, looking at her expectantly. "Thank show." His hands crunched as he gradually unclenched them, revealing the beautiful diamond on his palm. It was no larger than a single drop of water but still considerably valuable.

Geralt saw Yennefer raise an eyebrow. "Yes, well, it certainly is…shiny. I advise you to find a good, safe hiding spot for it out here." The Troll didn't move. "At once, Bert," she added with factitious urgency, the monster nodded his head vigorously.

"Yes! Yes!" he yelled enthusiastically, bumbling away and moving from one area of the cave to the next. Yennefer threw her head back.

"I can't wait to tell Ciri this," Geralt smirked, grinning down at her.

Yennefer replied with a playful glare. "Well, I-"

Her sarcastic riposte was cut short by a sudden jolt as the ground swayed violently beneath them. Then, there was an ear-piercing scream.

* * *

The Witcher leapt into action, shooting down the passageway. The further into the hill and underground he got, the fiercer the convulsing became, only his Witcher training was keeping him upright. When he reached the cavern, things became more unclear.

The force gripping the stone was tearing the place apart, walls crumbling on all sides and rocks plunging from the ceiling like meteorites, shattering as they smashed into the floor. Geralt was trying to interpret his surroundings, but the whole world was moving.

"Fuck! Dandelion hold on!" The Witcher's sensitive hearing could pick out the dwarf's cry through the rumbling ricocheting off the walls.

He saw, on the far side of the cavern, Priscilla and Zoltan lying on their stomachs just before a large crack which marred the floor of the cave like a jagged scar. Their arms were reaching into it, and Dandelion was nowhere to be seen.

Nimbly, the wolf ran down the steep path, heart thumping wildly. As he landed on the last ledge, he felt the ground underneath his feet fall away upon impact. He hit the ground hard, rolling across the floor and landing on his back. He hadn't the chance to even blink before a razor-sharp stalactite detached from the ceiling, hurtling towards his exposed chest. He rolled to the side but knew he would be too late. His medallion vibrated.

"Dal yn ôl dawelu y llu." The projectile halted inches above him, tearing a small cut in his shoulder as he rolled away.

When Geralt looked up, he saw that the walls, ceiling and floor were aglow with blue magic and that the same force was holding sizable pieces of rock in mid-air. Beneath the spell, the earth was twisting and churning, struggling against their captor.

Yennefer was standing at the top of the cavern, arms outstretched before her, holding back the stone like a Goddess. "Quickly, Geralt!" she called out, her voice strained and heavy, beads of sweat already beginning to form on her glistening brow. Her eyes were screwed up. "I can't hold this for long!"

Picking himself up, Geralt sprinted across the room expertly handling the uneven terrain. He dived towards the crack, staring into the abyss. Dandelion was clinging to a small ledge on his side of the gap.

"Grab my hand," shouted Geralt, thrusting it into the space. Dandelion looked up with wide eyes and a face completely drained of colour. He stared at him. "Dandelion!"

Hesitantly, the Bard reached out a shaky hand and seized the Witcher's wrist. Slowly, Geralt lifted him out of jaws of the earth. Back on solid ground, Dandelion looked as though was about to kiss the floor and pray. But his rest was short lived.

Yennefer groaned in pain. A rock nearby fell from its seat in the air and the cave became dimmer. Geralt smelt fresh blood...

"Move!" ordered Geralt, hurling Dandelion to his feet and pushing him towards the slope.

The others could not match the Witcher's deft foot, they stumbled and faltered, slowing down their pace considerably. Geralt kept casting anxious glances up at Yennefer, her arms were visibly shaking.

There was an almighty crack. All the way across the cave, from one wall to the other, the ground ripped open as the light flickered, stones tumbling into its depths. Their path blocked, Geralt frantically looked around, but there was no other alternative. He held his breath.

"Dal yn ôl a thawelu yr heddlu a'r rheoli." The fading magic suddenly flared, pulsating radiantly. Right before their eyes, the gap began to close like two sides of a wound being stitched together. The rocks shuddered under the Sorceress' might, but they yielded to her command.

Yennefer was now screaming in agony, and the sound made Geralt's blood run cold. His medallion was vibrating so madly that it barely touched his chest. He didn't want to think about what this was costing her. They didn't have any time to waste.

"Now!" yelled Geralt, flinging himself across. When he reached the other side, he felt the ground lurch forwards, throwing him onto one knee. The ground had sprung open again, like a string released from the archer's hand. His medallion went still.

Only the light of the crystals flooded the cavern and Geralt glanced up just in time to see the Sorceress' body go limp. He gasped for air. Geralt didn't look back at the others but hurtled up the path, numb to the piercing rocks biting into his hands and the shrapnel striking his arms and face. He got to the top and feared he was too late.

The world moved in slow motion as a boulder plummeted from the ceiling directly above Yennefer's unconscious body. There was a horrendous smash.

The rock descending from the heaven's shattered as a stone fist rammed into it. Bert tried to shield Yennefer with his bulky form, a stalactite crumbling as it collided with his back. An infinitely long time passed until Geralt was able to kneel beside her. He scooped up her frail body and hastily threw her over his shoulder. He tried to ignore the smell and sight of blood clinging to her body and the feeling of her dead weight.

Geralt didn't flinch when another projectile was abolished beside him. He sprinted down the passageway and he saw the walls closing in on him. The twisting corridor seemed longer than he remembered, something that he was becoming painfully aware as the cave collapsed behind them, chasing them. The petrified torrent was gaining, fast.

Then, the Witcher felt a breeze against his cold, damp face and he adjusted his pupils automatically as he stepped out into the entrance. When he broke free from the passageway, he darted behind a nearby cluster of rocks, lowering Yennefer's body to the ground and covering it with his own. Just as Zoltan threw himself behind a rock and Bert stepped out, there was a deafening rumble. And all went quiet, and all went still.

He'd had his fun… For today.

* * *

Ernest Hemingway:  **Chapter 3, Gors Velen**

"I love sleep. My life has the tendency to fall apart when I'm awake, you know?"

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, again the chapter ends on a rather ominous and mysteries note, because I'm a nice person like that. You shall not have certitude! I apologise for all the exposition but I think events should move quicker now so hopefully expect to see more action soon.
> 
> My first exam is in a week so if you don't see an update in a while don't panic, you might not hear from me until July now but it's unlikely I won't re-emerge again if I manage to survive both the exams and then the after-exam parties that is.
> 
> Once again thank you so much for all the overwhelming support and praise, really helps me see the light at the end of the long tunnel of exam month because I can't wait to have freedom and hopefully quicker updates for you!
> 
> Feel free to leave comments or alternatively message me (here or on Tumblr) I love hearing from you guys


	4. Gors Velen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [UPDATED: rewritten and one new scene added]

**[UPDATED: rewritten and one new scene added]**

* * *

Ernest Hemingway:  **Chapter 3, Gors Velen**

"I love sleep. My life has the tendency to fall apart when I'm awake, you know?"

* * *

Their short stint in the cave made the storm a more welcoming sight than they'd have thought possible. Faint moonlight spilt into the cave, glimmering off the rain-soaked stones and trickles of water running further into the cave. It lit up the faces of the weary travellers, making them pale and gaunt. Geralt was holding Yennefer tightly against his chest, protecting her from the danger which had long since past because he was unwilling to let her go. The cave was still and quiet, the blocked entrance to the tunnels remained the only sign that something had gone amiss.

Outside the storm continued to scream and dance in the night, but its music fell upon death ears as the Witcher strained to hear sounds of life within his arms. He released a long and shaky breath when he found the steady rhythm of her heart pounding again his fingers. With his fears dulled and weakened, Geralt examined Yennefer's body carefully and with a delicate touch. There were a few small scratches and red marks on her face and arms, nothing all that bad, it was the blood which worried him. He could see a long cut above her left eye, and though it looked to be a shallow wound it poured blood down one side of her face and made her look deathly pale. There was also a lot of blood pooling on her chest and white blouse as her nose bled profusely. Geralt swallowed a lump in his throat. Little damage had been done to the Sorceress, though his own heart was heavy and weary from the night's event. Fate could well have played a cruller hand, but it seemed to look upon him with pity tonight and he welcomed it.

Someone whispered his name faintly behind him and he turned to look upon Priscilla. The young Bard was twirling a lock of hair around her finger and scraping her feet. "How…how is she?" she asked softly.

"Yens fine, but she's exhausted and needs rest," he replied kindly, trying to smile.

Priscilla opened and closed her mouth, gently shaking her head. He could see her hands shake as she picked up the furs beside their horses and lay a few out on the floor beside him. Geralt lifted Yennefer off the floor and placed her upon the makeshift bedding, propping a balled-up cloak under her head.

"Priscilla," said Geralt quietly, as she hovered over them, "you're okay, it's over."

"I…" she stammered, wringing her wrists and shuffling on the spot. She flinched when Dandelion placed a hand on her shoulder, stumbling as she turned around and flung herself into his arms. "I'm sorry, Dandelion, for what I said… If, if…" she whispered, the sound muffled by his doublet.

Dandelion held her shoulders tightly and Geralt heard a faint sob. He looked away, unsure what they were talking about. "It's okay," Dandelion murmured, "you were right."

The Bard led her away, giving the Witcher some space to work. Using the water skin and bandages Zoltan had thoughtfully brought him, Geralt began judiciously cleaning Yennefer's wounds and skin. After he had wiped away most of the blood and pain, the cut on her forehead and the scratches dotted around her body looked considerably less prominent. He felt reassured that things had initially looked far worse than they truly were and that he could breathe a little easier. Geralt applied a wet compress to Yennefer's forehead and covered the length of her body in the remaining furs until only her head was visible.

For a while he sat beside her, watching her chest rise and fall. His body was sore and weary but he didn't much care. The pain was dull and his injuries minor so he left them be and tried to ease the tightness gripping his chest. He finished off the rest of the skin, using the cold water to clean his bloody and scratched hands. They tingled and stung, the skin red and raw, but the sensation helped to keep his mind sharp for he could not afford to rest.

Geralt was in the middle of changing the compress on Yennefer's head when he felt the ground beneath his feet shake and rumble. His adrenaline spiked and he got to his feet, but his nerves were quickly calmed by what he saw. Bert was hobbling around in the cave, towering over a large tree trunk while water collected at his feet.

"Hummany magic, crackle glow," said the Troll, stamping on the wood. Then he looked at the Witcher and plodded over leaving a trail of wet footprints behind him. He looked down at Yennefer with an expression very unbecoming and otherworldly for a Troll. A mix of affection and concern. "Deadgone?"

"No," answered Geralt with a shake of his head. He tried to smile reassuringly at the Troll while considering which of them looked the most peculiar now. "She's just very tired, but she'll be fine. You did good Bert, thank you." The Troll smiled, or at least Geralt presumed that's what the horrifying grimace on his face was supposed to be resembling. He wandered off and started smashing the tree trunk into smaller pieces.

"To think that they call that bloody thing a monster," chuckled Zoltan as he finished fastening a bandage around his lower leg. "I've seen priests and street beggars more threatening than him."

"You wouldn't be saying that if you'd pissed him off," said Geralt, "not when he was throwing boulders at you."

"No, I probably wouldn't."

* * *

Though the travellers' bodies were drained and heavy, rest could not yet find them tonight as the face of death was all too fresh in memory. Using some of his Mahakaman spirits, Zoltan managed to get a fire going, much to the delight of the others. The soft glow of the flames helped to set their minds at ease and kindled a sense of comfort within their dreary souls.

While the others huddled close to the fire and heat the Witcher maintained his vigil. Although Yennefer's hands and face were raw and numb the rest of her skin was warm to the touch, buried beneath a mound of furs, and there was nothing much more he could do to make her comfortable.

Geralt knelt beside her and cleaned the cut on her head, now that the bleeding had stopped. She began to stir as he did so, moaning quietly and shifting onto her side. Raven locks tumbled over her shoulders and face, and Geralt swept them behind her ear without much thought and finished his task. Yennefer remained still and silent as he finished cleaning her face and he thought perhaps she'd risen from unconsciousness only to fall into the depths of sleep. But as the thought crossed his mind, the Witcher saw her eyes twitch beneath her lids and slowly they began to flicker.

He waited patiently on the floor beside her, fearing to speak and wake her prematurely when it was clear she needed rest. However, equally, to his pleasure and dismay, her eyes opened wide and she looked up at him from beneath long eyelashes. Yennefer said nothing at first, blinking slowly and rubbing her eyes with a frown plastered to her forehead. When she moved her head to the side Geralt heard her wince and she quickly screwed up her eyes and face before hiding them beneath a pale hand.

Geralt leant closer, his hair slipping over his shoulders. "Are you alright, Yen?" he asked quietly. It was a stupid question to ask for Yennefer rarely responded to such queries with a straight answer, that he knew all too well, yet he asked her all the same.

"My head is ringing louder than the most obnoxious church bell," she answered from behind her hand. Yennefer's statement, even though made partly in jest, did nothing to lessen the Witcher's concern and she seemed to sense that. Perhaps the silence had prompted her, he hoped it had and that the Sorceress was not straining herself to catch a glimpse of what was on his mind.

Yennefer's her hand fell away from her face and she placed it against his arm, wrapping her fingers around it. It was cold and pale. "I'm fine Geralt." He nodded in reply, not trusting himself to speak.

Over the years he'd spent amongst Mages and Scholars, Geralt had learnt much about the sacrifices magic required of those who wished to yield it. He'd seen it too, the toll it could take upon the body and things beyond it. He also knew how adept Yennefer was at concealing this cost, even from him. Thus, despite her reassurances, Geralt still brooded and in the silence, he took her hand in his own and rubbed her numb fingers. Yennefer sighed, closing her eyes and tilting back her head. He hoped his thoughts would draw no further comment from her. While she'd grown more tolerant of his worries over the years, Yennefer still seemed to possess the instinct to turn them aside and carry her own burdens, scorning other's concern. Perhaps that's one of the reasons he worried about her more than anyone.

"Geralt, would you be a dear and get me something to eat, please?" Yennefer asked a while later, looking at his face with glazed eyes and a distant stare. Geralt nodded and tucked her warm hand under the furs.

On his way to their saddlebags, the Witcher passed the fire and peered closely at his companions. Dandelion and Priscilla were wrapped up in a blanket together as they sat dangerously close to the naked flames. Zoltan, on the other hand, seemed unbothered by the cold and was digging into a chunk of bread and a bottle of vodka. He was sitting on the floor beside a rock which appeared to be snoring.

When Zoltan saw him, the dwarf held out the bottle but Geralt shook his head. "Thanks, but I need to get Yen something to eat." He started rummaging through their things, taking out a selection of food - bread, cheese, fruit - and another waterskin.

He returned to see Yennefer sitting up against the wall with her head tilted back as she rubbed her temples cursing. Geralt sat next to her and they picked at the food without a word between them. Yennefer ate very little, he noticed, and he watched her stare at the sealed tunnel at the back of the cave with her brow creased. He wondered what she was thinking and with nothing else to break the stillness or to preoccupy him, Geralt too began to think. It had been a peculiar night indeed, though he hadn't much time to examine it.

His questions were silenced when Yennefer closed her eyes with a yawn and rested her head on his shoulder. Geralt felt the cold emanating from her cheeks and when he believed that sleep had calmed her, he scooped Yennefer up, placing her on his lap. She half-opened her eyes, pursing her lips at him, but the expression slid from her face as he shifted some of the furs to press his body against her. He felt his own temperature drop as he shared his heat, and Yennefer's eyes slid shut without audible complaint.

The Witcher watched her blissful face as he wrapped his arms around her. Carefully, he tucked a stray piece of hair behind her ear and stroked her cheek, marvelling at the softness of it and the slight tingle it sent through his body. He placed a kiss on her forehead, inhaling her fragrance - the mix of her perfume and her body - to still his mind. Geralt soon fell asleep after her, chasing the woman of his dreams into the morning.

* * *

The sun carried a new day to the traveller's eerie cave and with it came clear skies and mild weather. The uprooted trees and damp grass glistened in the morning's rays. It streamed through the mouth of the cave, rousing Geralt from his slumber before he was ready, yet he did not bother trying to reclaim that which had just fled him. Instead, he looked at the woman still asleep in his arms. She'd slept all through the night, not once stirring, and he was glad. He himself had not been given such a luxury.

Reluctantly, he lay Yennefer to rest on the floor and strapped on his sword. He routinely checked his crossbow, which was emblazoned with his knightly suit of arms, and left the cave. Not long after, he returned with breakfast.

* * *

_Something smelt good_ … It was the first lucid thought Yennefer registered when her consciousness was drawn within reach. Her stomach rumbled unbecomingly. As the smell awakened her senses she rubbed her eyes and the back of her neck. It took a while for her to notice that her bed for the night had left her on the floor of the cave, but she hadn't the time to appraise how she felt about it before he reappeared.

Cumbersomely, Yennefer raised herself up into a seated position and rearranged the furs sheltering her. The movement made her head throb and she closed her eyes until the pain dulled, opening them again to the sight of Geralt holding out a small leg of cooked rabbit. She accepted it and began nibbling away at the tender meat its steam heating her face. Yennefer didn't feel particularly peckish, however. In truth, she was a tad queasy and would have preferred to skip her morning meal, but Geralt's eyes were following her and she hadn't the strength to argue. Though she'd not admit so.

Much like last night, the ambience was subdued and it was to Yennefer's liking. Even if her head hadn't been beating against her skull, she'd still rather not have to deal with the Bard for a while. Instead, Yennefer enjoyed the comfortable silence between her and Geralt. It pleased her that he shared her sentiment for stillness and felt no obligation to fill the void with endless chatter. However, Geralt's mind was not so hushed. His thoughts were faint, whispers she could not make sense of. It would have been easy for her to amplify them, to listen closely, but she did not; only with unspoken invitation did she delve deeper into his mind. Nevertheless, she could not block them out completely.

"Geralt, what's wrong? I can hear you brooding despite my headache, and it's worsening it, in case you were curious."

Yennefer felt his worry spike following her words and he sighed. Geralt did not answer immediately and twirled the bone between his fingers without taking his eyes off her. "What happened last night, Yen?" he asked.

"That's a question, Geralt. I wanted an answer," she reprimanded, lips upturning into a half smile. Geralt did not respond to the gesture, instead, he broke eye contact and threw the bone across the cave.

He crossed his arms and watched it bounce across the stone. "My medallion didn't vibrate, Yen."

The Sorceress raised both eyebrows. "Mmmmm," she managed to murmur in reply, "well, in that case, my explanation for what happened now has a serious flaw."

Silence fell between them. Yennefer continued to take small bites of the rabbit without much enthusiasm. She was itching to simply get up and leave this damn place, but Geralt had suddenly lost his sense of urgency. His eyes kept flickering in her direction and she was fighting back the urge to snap at him.

"Something doesn't feel right, Yen," said the Witcher suddenly. He was clutching his medallion in one hand, running his fingers over its sharp fur and staring straight down. The sight unnerved her. "Somethings wrong…"

Yennefer observed him closely as Geralt's ambiguous statement hung in the air. Once, she would have simply dismissed it, but she'd learnt to trust in his instincts, even though at times it felt ridiculous to do so. She reached out to him, lightly running her hand over his jaw. "Then let us go, Geralt. Let us leave this place for Gors Velen, we'll be safer there."

Yennefer'sfingers traced their way down his shoulders and arm, coming to rest lightly upon his wrist. Geralt curled his fingers around her hand and followed her when she rose to her feet. They slid down to her waist as she dragged her arms above her head, stretching leisurely, and the Witcher kissed her collarbone when she pulled back her head. Yennefer stumbled, her head beating in protest against the sudden movement. Geralt pressed his hand into her back holding her upright, watching her closely as she pinched the bridge of her nose. Whatever he was about to say, Yennefer knew she didn't want to hear and silenced his words with a kiss.

"I'm fine, Geralt," she whispered, "let's go."

* * *

He wasn't convinced, far from it in fact, but knew from experience that in this case, it would be better not to voice his opinion. Geralt trailed after Yennefer as she stepped around the rocks which had provided them with shelter and privacy during the night, her high heels tapping loudly on the ground. He nodded towards Dandelion and Zoltan, who were saddling up the horses, and made himself busy with their saddlebags.

The newly light fire was already beginning to sputter, though Priscilla seemed unwilling to let go of the flames as she poked the dying embers. As Yennefer approached her, however, she lost interest in the task and the fire went to its grave in peace. Geralt chuckled gruffly as Yennefer's body when stiff in Priscilla's arms, the Bard almost pouncing on her. She hesitated for a moment and returned the gesture in kind.

"Thank you," murmured Priscilla, the sounded muffled in the Sorceress' wild hair, "thank you, Yennefer."

"Well, I could hardly let all my good work go to waste, could I?" she replied. Her voice carried its usual sharpness and clarity, but a small smile graced her features as she looked at the younger woman. Even with her unfathomably high heels, Yennefer only just reached the same height as Priscilla, whose shoes were flat.

The latter's eyes were shimmering as she stepped back. "Another thing I'll have to repay you for, someday." Her fingers traced over her neck, where the scaring had once been. Geralt doubted that anyone but a Witcher could see it now.

"I must also pay you some gratitude, Lady Yennefer, we owe you our lives," said Zoltan. Yennefer inclined her head.

"Yes, that was quite the impressive spell. Excellent material for a ballad, wouldn't you say?" Dandelion trilled, leaning against the side of the cave, his precious lute in hand. Geralt grunted, but his stare went largely unnoticed.

"Honestly, Dandelion, is that all you have to say?" shot Priscilla. He shrugged in reply but Geralt saw his face pale as she narrowed her eyes.

"Magic Elfie!" A large silhouette appeared in the entrance to the cave and it bumbled towards Yennefer. "Deadgone not, Bert bubblyrock."

Yennefer raised an eyebrow. It was strange to see her receiving so much praise and gratitude, but it was a scene Geralt welcomed fondly. Especially the part with the Troll. "Yes well, I'm fine now and I thank you for…uh, saving me."

He nodded his head madly and gave another horrifying smile. "Bert stone Elfie help."

"Then we're even now. It was a pleasure enjoying your…hospitality, but we must be leaving now. I suggest you find another cave, Bert."

* * *

By the time they were ready to leave, Geralt was still undecided about the about the journey which lay in wait. If they were to reach Gors Velen in time for the meeting a long day of rising was in store for them. Yet now his worry about arriving was overshadowed with questions about whether or not Yennefer would be able to cope with the travel. Questions he dared not voice to her.

The Witcher packed away their furs and water skins as Yennefer retreated to the back of the cave to change out of her bloodied top. It was peaceful, mostly, with only Dandelion's new lyrics competing with the sounds of the gentle breeze and chortling birds outside. The Bard was halfway through his third version of the chorus when Geralt felt his medallion vibrate. He hurried towards the back of the cave where Yennefer was standing with her back towards him.

"Yen," he reprimanded, watching as she traced her hands over the collapsed passageway. She ignored him. "Yen, I don't think-"

"If you keep interrupting me, Geralt," she snapped, jerking her head to the side and glaring at him, "this will take longer than it needs to."

Geralt frowned but didn't press her. He leant against the wall and watched her work her magic, alert for any tell-tale signs of fatigue. Yennefer kept shooting angry glances in his direction but didn't comment. They were at an impasse. Several minutes later his medallion stopped vibrating and Yennefer folded her arms. Geralt followed the Sorceress as she stalked away without a word, grabbing a black cloak and covering her head as she faffed around with her saddle. The Witcher had already checked everything, although he knew it would have been unwise to tell her, so he left her be.

"I'm not some fragile maiden, Geralt, so I'd advise you to stop treating me like one," Yennefer muttered under her breath, yanking on a pair of riding gloves.

Geralt could tell that she was troubled, thus her anger came as no surprise to him as it would to many. She was upset, that much was plain to him, and he could rightly guess why. They'd be travelling at her pace today and should anything happen on the road, there was little she could do to help.

"I couldn't ever think you were, Yen," he replied quietly.

"Then stop hovering over me," she spat, their toes practically touching as she got up in his face. Yennefer turned on her heels and mounted her black mare. He waited before trotting after her.

* * *

By midday, Gors Velen had still not graced the horizon, and Yennefer was still fuming silently. She kept ahead of him, hiding her face from Geralt with the hood of her cloak. He left her alone, but he was still worried.

"What happened last night, Geralt?" asked Dandelion, distracting him from the sight of Yennefer's back. "You don't think…the Lodge?"

Geralt shook his head. "No, I don't Dandelion. True, what happened wasn't normal, but no. I don't."

"How can you be so sure?"

"Because I couldn't detect any magical trace," Yennefer interjected. She turned slightly in her saddle when she spoke, but her hair continued to obscure her features. "The Lodge doesn't have the knowledge to do something like that, not when it comes to a spell of that magnitude. Now, stop worrying about something you won't ever understand, and let us return to blissful silence." Geralt heard Dandelion huff, but for once he kept his mouth shut.

When Yennefer turned back to the front, Geralt was sure he saw her sway in the saddle. Though the others didn't comment, her pace had slowed considerably. If they wanted to make good time Yennefer needed to ride with someone else, but he knew that wasn't going to happen anytime soon. Not unless Yennefer passed out again, a scenario which seemed a lot more probable. All in all, despite everything, despite their head start and brisk pace leaving Toussaint - they were going to be late. Late for their deadline, and late for the meeting. The Witcher kept his eyes on the sky for sightings of a rather foul looking bird.

* * *

Geralt had never in his life felt more relieved to pass through city gates as when they entered Gors Velen in the early hours of the night. The city was relatively empty and noiseless, the only sounds of this portside city were the chattering of merchants packing away their market stalls or the bustle of taverns and inns. The hooves of their horses clattered against the wet and puddle-laden cobblestone as they made their way deeper into the city. Their destination was a building named 'Brewery Inn' on the other side of the city, close to the bridge that led to Thanedd. Geralt hoped that the Lodge was still there, a thought which sounded strange in his head.

Not far into the city, the night air rustling their cloaks, the Witcher spotted a bad omen. An all too familiar grey owl came soaring into view over the rooftops, a little dull spec against the dark sky until it began to swoop towards them. It landed a few feet ahead of their horses, blocking their path. There was a poof of smoke and the equally formidable Philippa Eilhart loomed before them.

"Did I not make it crystal clear that the Lodge's patience for your antics, Yennefer, as run dry." The runes decorating the cloth over Philippa's dead eyes flared dangerously. Deliberately, she walked towards her fellow Sorceress, crimson lips twisted into a snarl. "I suppose you've lost touch with common sense in retirement, you and the Witcher, because the Lodge will not stand for any more disobedience from you."

Yennefer didn't bat an eyelid as they stared each other down - metaphorically. In fact, she looked bored. "The Lodge has never had any patience for me and my disobedience, and what exactly has come of that, hmmm? Leave the idle threats, Philippa, for someone foolish enough to believe them." She spurred her horse forwards forcing Philippa to move out of her way. "Let's proceed to the meeting place, I dare say it's past the Lodge's bedtime, so best not to delay."

Geralt cast a concerned look over his shoulder as he followed Yennefer. He saw Philippa transform back into an owl, eyes narrowed at the other Sorceress. She flexed her claws. The Witcher held his hand in the air, eyes fixed on the bird ready to trace a sign, but Philippa kept her distance as she flew away.

"She was an arrogant little shit even as an owl," said Zoltan once the fowl was out of sight. "Always ruffling her feathers and screaming. She only shut up when she got the runs."

Yennefer laughed.

* * *

"Yennefer! Geralt!"

After passing several more thoroughfares and inns, a call echoed down the vacated street. Jogging around the corner came a young woman with ashen hair.

"Oh, Ciri, look at you," beamed Yennefer, holding Ciri at arm's length and inspecting her head to toe. "You look beautiful, my child. It's good to see you again, and looking so well."

Mother and daughter embraced, Ciri smiling proudly at Geralt over her shoulder. While she might still not look like a typical Empress or even an aristocrat - with her leather pants and sword hanging from her back - she definitely didn't look like a Witcher anymore. Her thigh high boots were lined with soft fur; her white blouse decorated with beautiful but subtle golden embroidery; her unruly hair pinned up with a delicate golden clip and a small emerald hung around her neck.

"Good to see you Ciri," said Geralt, pulling her into a bear hug.

"Likewise, I've missed you," she replied, smiling at them. Then, Geralt saw her eyes move towards the gash on Yennefer's forehead and widen. "What happened to you?"

"Nothing, Ciri, we're fine," Yennefer reassured. She ran a hand through her hair, rearranging it to help partly cover the mark. "We just ran into a...complication."

"A complication that almost crushed us to death, we're lucky to have made it here," declared Dandelion melodramatically, making a wide gesture with his arms.

Ciri's eyes darted back to him and Yennefer. "What is he blathering on about?"

"Cave roof collapsed on us, after an earthquake… An unnatural one," said Geralt. Ciri looked at him, and Yennefer who nodded in agreement. "Come on, we can talk about this later, best not keep the Lodge waiting any longer."

As Yennefer turned towards her horse, Geralt stepped towards her intending to offer her a leg up. She saw it coming a mile away. "I can manage, Geralt," she hissed, pulling herself up without any help.

Geralt and Ciri exchanged a look. "Let me ride with you," Ciri offered, holding out a hand. Yennefer opened her mouth. "Please, Mother." She nodded and made room for her on the saddle. Ciri jumped up and lead the way.

* * *

A sign for 'Brewery Inn' fluttered above the double oak doors of a rather large building, the smell of fresh paint lingering around it. When they dismounted a handful of stable boys scurried over to them, taking their horses and belongings. As the figures faded into the distance, the small group entered the building.

A wave of warm, comforting heat enveloped him as Geralt stepped over the threshold. Numerous tables, benches and chairs were scattered around the open space, candles burning brightly in brackets and chandlers, filling the room with light. All of the faces occupying the space were familiar, some welcomingly so and others…not so much. Ermien and Queen Cerys an Craite were huddled in a corner talking amongst themselves and occasionally casting glances at their company. The latter's brother was talking animatedly with Vernon Roche and Ves over a mug of beer. Fringilla Vigo was sitting quietly in a seat beside the fireplace, sneering at the brash Skellige warrior. Triss Merigold and Margarita Laux-Antille - otherwise known as Rita - were chatting over a bottle of wine, which was nearly empty. Francesca Findabair the Daisy of the Valleys and the Queen of the Elves of Dol Blathanna was conversing in hushed whispers with Ida Emean aep Sivney in the corner furthest away from everyone else.

Once they were all inside the heavy door slammed shut and Philippa lingered beside them like a thundercloud. "Now you've finally decided to show up," she snarled at Yennefer, "let's get down to business. Some of us have important matters to attend to."

"What the hell happened to you lot!" Hjalmar bellowed across the room.

Geralt sighed.

* * *

Fire In The Heavens - Christopher John Brennan:  **Chapter 4, Fire**

Fire in the heavens, and fire along the hills,

and fire made solid in the flinty stone,

thick-mass'd or scatter'd pebble, fire that fills

the breathless hour that lives in fire alone.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At long last, we've made it to the start of the meeting which was supposed to happen in chapter 1 and I'm beginning to realise how long this thing could potentially be! Yikes. I'm trying to think of a way of speeding up the story because otherwise, jeez this thing could be long enough to be a book. If you have any ideas please, please let me know, I mean unless you guys want this thing to be over 100 000 words because that's how it's looking to me 0.0 Why do I keep adding more and more things to the already enormous general plan I have! Someone send help.
> 
> Hope you guys enjoyed the latest chapter, a bit of respite after last time, enjoy it while it lasts… This week I'm not going to tell you to worry about slow updates because I've found my enjoyment for writing has genuinely increased my productivity revision wise (5hours of revision before 1400 for 4 days!) so hopefully, I should be able to update weekly, probably Sunday evening UK time.
> 
> Thank you for all the love and support guys, it means a lot to me. Until next time – Eileniessa xx


	5. Fire

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [UPDATED: rewritten and new dialogue]

Fire In The Heavens - Christopher John Brennan:  **Chapter 4, Fire**

Fire in the heavens, and fire along the hills,

and fire made solid in the flinty stone,

thick-mass'd or scatter'd pebble, fire that fills

the breathless hour that lives in fire alone.

* * *

Yennefer bit her lip as she tried to suppress a small shiver. Philippa was still looming over her and the Owl Witch appeared threatened by her presence, even after all this time, and the thought brought Yennefer ineffable pleasure. The crisp night air was leaking through the cracks in the door behind her, banishing whatever heat was pouring from the blazing fireplace. It had been a long ride and Yennefer had no desire to stand around in the doorway for the others to gape at as Dandelion recounted their journey, soaking up the spotlight like a fat, pompous cat. She threw her shoulders back and stepped out from the doorway; when Philippa copied her movements Yennefer ignored the Sorceress and barged past without looking at her. The hairs on Yennefer's arm stood on end as their shoulders brushed, a crackle of energy leaping between them like static.

Even as she slipped onto a nearby bench, resting her back against a thick tapestry, the feeling had passed. The two Sorceresses narrowed their eyes at each other but, for better or worse, their eye contact was broken by the Witcher's muscular form as he moved into the corner, taking his time before he sat beside her. Yennefer folded her arms and shot a sideways look at Geralt, he was watching his friend's storytelling intently and she was too tired to pry his attention away. Looking briefly around the room, it appeared that the Bard had captured everyone's attention besides hers and Philippa's. Their silent argument went uninterrupted for several minutes.

"I must admit, Yennefer, that I am impressed with your spell work. Not that I would expect anything less from a Sorceress such as yourself." Yennefer bowed her head graciously at Francesca, acknowledging the Queen's rare praise. Not only was she a powerful and knowledgeable figure but one who was renowned for being exceedingly hard to impress. Yennefer believed that the elf had simply been around for so long and seen too many things to find anything short of a miracle worthy of appreciation. A small smile crossed her lips, less the result of the praise itself, but at the thought of Philippa's escalating anger. Perhaps even jealousy. As the idea crossed her mind, Yennefer deliberately turned her face to the Owl Lady who was notably inspecting her glossy nails.

"Well, know you've enlightened us with your fascinating story," she huffed, words dripping with sarcasm so thick it couldn't have escaped even the village idiot's attention, "do shut up. You dimwitted fool." Dandelion scowled at Philippa's back as the Sorceress turned towards Geralt. "What is he doing here?"

Yennefer, however, had no intention of giving him the satisfaction of replying. She smirked. "Do you really not know, darling Phil? Your mind is clearly becoming addled if you can't recall your own instructions, any and all witnesses is what I believe you...requested."

The air around Philippa thickened, Yennefer could sense the magic building around her as clearly as she could feel Geralt's heat against her skin. Every Mage in the vicinity would be able to feel it, magic was not inherently stealthy, not when used amongst those who claimed its power. That's why they all envied her life's work, her obsidian star. While her aura remained clear and unique, marking her as a powerful Magician, calmness surrounded her even as she drew magic to her fingertips. Yennefer doubted the Owl Sorceress would try anything so brash, not with Ciri watching and Geralt so close at hand, but she kept her guard up. It was always safest to do so.

An eerie silence followed her words, it seemed that no one was willing to risk breaking the tension. Yennefer was mostly spent, but she wasn't prepared to back down.

"While time moves forwards, memories linger, and history is written in favour of those who make them." Geralt sighed and Yennefer questioned, not for the first time, why the Witcher chose to put up with his company. Though, for once, Dandelion's knack for putting his foot in it was in her favour.

He was holding his lute tightly, knuckles whitening. She saw Ida eyeing the instrument curiously and wondered if she recognised its Elven origin. She likely did. Though Yennefer knew the story behind the strange lute she needn't have heard it to guess that it was made by one practised in Elven craft. She knew more about their culture and history than most, it was a part of her heritage after all, even if it wasn't always obvious to those who saw her.

Yennefer was lost in thought when Dandelion began to speak and it looked like she wasn't alone as the Bard cleared his throat loudly and repeated himself. "Dear Ladies of the Lodge," he rose to his feet and bowed courteously. Yennefer scoffed. To her mind, there was only one Sorceress amongst them that deserved the respect of a monarch and even then she begrudgingly gave it. The Lodge had no need to bolster their already insufferably large egos. "I am here to offer my services to you, those of a witness and of a Bard. It's all well and true to have facts written down in a history book, but ballads and poems are how the mass will remember the Wild Hunt, and I dare say you want to be remembered well. Thus, we," he placed a hand on Priscilla's shoulder, "are here."

Geralt covered his face with his hand and Yennefer could see the goblet in Triss' handshaking and she finished the rest of her wine. Yennefer felt no sympathy for the man, however, but rather a guilty sense of satisfaction. She'd been beginning to doubt that the rise she'd gotten out of Philippa for bringing him had been worth putting up with the fools company... Or his opinions, to be precise. Seeing Dandelion slowly shrink in on himself, elbows pressed close to his side and his shoulders hanging forward as he squirmed under the Sorceress' glare, had finally turned this into a worthy exchange. Yennefer only hoped that Geralt wouldn't stick his neck out for the idiot. Philippa placed her claw-like hands on the table before Dandelion, gradually leaning forward. Darkness appeared to gather around her like a shroud of mist and the room grew dim and cold.

"There's truth in what the man says, Phil," said Rita. "There are already rumours circulating about the hunt, it would be wise to exert our influence over them while they are still malleable. To emphasise the Lodge's role in the annihilation of the White Frost."

Philippa showed no indication that she had heard her fellow Headmistress, hovering over the Bard like a bird surveying its prey. Despite appearances, Yennefer knew that she'd already made up her mind. Philippa would never miss an opportunity to spread the Lodge's informal control. "The Lodge will permit you to attend the gathering, on one condition. Any material you create must be verified by me and if you change even a single word of the final draft," the runes on her band pulsated and Dandelion's swallowed, "I can promise you that your fame won't protect you." The two Bards nodded in reply, their voices petrified. The group was still for a moment until Philippa stood up and glided into the centre of the room. Yennefer rolled her eyes, not caring that the other Sorceress could plainly see her, indeed rather hoped she would. She had no time for Philippa's impotent theatrics.

"Now, let there be no more interruptions. While you, Yennefer, might have ample time to waste idly like a lounging cat, the Lodge's time is valuable seeing as we still have some importance in the world." Yennefer folded her arms but her face remained impassive with ease. The only thing she regretted about retirement and settling down was not doing it sooner.

"Not only have you turned up several days late," she continued, "but you failed to do us the most simple courtesy of informing us of your delay. Really, Yennefer, even Keira had the decency to warn us. Now, let us begin at last. I have a list of rules to be followed to the letter, without expectation, during your time on Thanedd and with the Lodge…"

The first of several meetings dragged on until the moon had reached its peak. Under its ghostly light, he prepared his next trick. His audience - Dorian.

* * *

"And I thought it was hard negotiating with the Jarls," said Cerys. She clambered up into the carriage containing Yennefer, Geralt and Ciri and sat down on a bench opposite them. Her brother clambered up after her, without as much grace. "It would seem that intelligence doesn't make people any less stubborn or pig-headed, but at least on Skellige you know what to expect when someone's pissed off at ye. You lot on the continent are just as likely to stick a knife in someone's back as cut em down in broad daylight."

Yennefer nodded and Geralt thought she looked impressed by the young woman's keen eye. She's only been on the continent for a matter of days and yet already deduced the core principles of the shambles they called politics. "Well, if you survive this meeting, consider it good training," said Yennefer. "One word of advice, stand your ground no matter what. If you don't, Philippa will walk all over you, but I can't imagine that will be a problem for either or you."

The carriages clattered against the moonlit stone bridge as the group made their way to Loxia, their accommodation on Thanedd during the meetings. Yennefer pulled one leg up, placing her foot on the bench and wrapping her arms around it. She watched Cerys and Ciri as they shared a small bottle of vodka and compared their experiences of ruling with one another. Meanwhile, Geralt listened to Hjalmar as he recounted the stories behind his various scars, occasionally contributing his own story. The Witcher was only paying half a mind to what the man was saying, however, as he kept an eye on Yennefer who had fallen completely silent, resting her head on her knee as she started out into the shimmering sea with glossy, droopy eyes. Halfway through another of the warrior's tales, Geralt heard a faint murmuring coming from somewhere nearby. Tuning out Hjalmar with difficulty, he searched for the origin of this disturbance and grabbed one of his saddlebags.

"Geralt," Yennefer reprimanded, as his sudden movements jolted her. Geralt felt her piercing eyes on the back of his neck as he riffled through the bag. "What on earth are you doing? We're almost there, what could you possibly need so desp-"

"Geralt! Geralt can you hear me! Geralt!" Keira's shrieking was coming - painfully loud and clear - through the small silver box in Geralt's palm. A Xenovox. He could hear her panting frantically on the other end.

He raised it closer to his mouth as the others sat watching him silently. "Keira, it's Geralt. What's going on?"

"Geralt? Oh, thank God, we urgently require your assist-"

"Enough of the pleasantries!" shouted a voice which sounded uncannily like Lambert, only that his voice seemed strained. "Just tell him to be fucking quick!"

Geralt heard Keira scoff. "Yes, thank you, Lambert. Geralt, you need to come to Dorian - now. There's a mob outside." The Witcher's muscles tightened. Too many bad memories. "We can't hold them off much longer." There was a loud smash followed by an encore of cursing and shouting and Keira spoke an incantation which made Geralt wince and lower the box. "Be quick, we're in the abandoned brothel by the main square, Phil knows the one. Hurry." Another smash and this time muffled jeering; the box went silent.

Geralt shoved the device into his pocket and started clambering towards the end of the carriage. "Get their attention, I'll try and catch Eilhart," he called.

The Witcher jumped off the moving vehicle and Yennefer followed him. Stepping to the side she waved her hands and fingers in a subtle pattern and two streams of yellow light shot from her hands. He saw them whizz off up the bridge and they collided together with a phenomenal bang above a carriage just ahead of them. Sparks started flying directly over Philippa's head. There was a shriek. Grabbing Yennefer's waist, he pulled her down and kneeling beside her he formed the Quen sign. The owl narrowly avoided colliding with the shield, its claws just scrapping the surface. The Witcher dropped his shield as Philippa remerged, baring her brilliantly white teeth.

He pulled out the small box hastily.

"A mob in Dorian has the others trapped." Geralt wasn't sure if Philippa was paying him any attention. He stood up, standing between the two Sorceresses. "They need help now. An old brothel in the town square, Keira says you know they one."

After a moment, Phillipa nodded, though a scowl was still clearly plastered on her face. "Follow me, Witcher."

"I'll come," said Ciri. She jumped down the carriage and walked past him, heading after Philippa as she headed up the bridge.

Geralt started to make his way towards them when he heard a pair of high heels behind him. "Yen, please," he said. He put out an arm to stop her, holding her shoulder. Her eyes snapped up to his but he was willing to risk her wrath. "Stay here."

"Let me tell you, Geralt, exactly what you can do with that order." She cursed profusely and barged past thundering off. Hjalmar's mouth dropped open and Cerys blushed.

Geralt stayed behind her, watching her hair sway side to side as she walked up the bridge. He didn't plan on dropping the subject just like that, there was too much at stake. "Yen, stop," she ignored him. "Yen, if the mob turns on us-"

"I'll defend myself," she retorted without turning her head. He could hear her heart thumping madly.

"Yen-"

"Geralt, enough!"

The wind was beginning to increase as they neared the middle of the bridge. Yennefer's hair and cloak were billowing around her furiously, adequately appropriating her mood. As the black material was jostled to the side, Geralt could see the tightness of her shoulders; her slightly stooped over posture and the way she was hugging her sides. He seized her upper arm and when she spun around - he kissed her. Yennefer didn't pull away, instead, Geralt felt her hands on his chest as she closed her eyes and deepened the kiss.

He held her close and rested his forehead on hers, whispering softly. "This won't be like Rivia, Yen. I promise."

Slowly, the Sorceress exhaled a deep breath. When she opened her eyes, their colour seemed dulled. "I've seen you die in that place so many times," she said under her breathe. Her voice shook almost undetectable. "I want to come, Geralt…"

"I know," he replied. Geralt had lost count of the times Yennefer had awoken in cold sweat screaming his name. "I can't imagine how I'd feel if I had to watch you die, Yen." He brought a hand to her face, pulling away some of the hair whipping across her cheeks. "I couldn't bear it, so please...wait for me."

Yennefer closed her eyes leaning into his touch as Geralt tenderly stroked her cheek. She sighed. "Okay." The Witcher kissed her on the forehead before they pulled apart.

Their hands and arms brushed as they walked the rest of the way. In the carriage at the front of the precession, Philippa was conversing with some of her fellow sisters while Ciri leant against the stone railing. As they neared, Yennefer turned off and went towards her and he saw her hands go to her neck.

"Here, Ciri, wear this." She pulled off her black cloak and handed it to the girl. "It will help hide your face, stop you from drawing too much attention." Ciri nodded and took the cloak, putting it on. Yennefer fasted it for her. "Please be careful," she said quietly, holding her by the shoulders.

"I will, promise."

"Let's go, now," barked Philippa, waving them over. Fringilla and Rita were getting off the carriage beside her.

As Geralt turned to go, a small hand held his wrist. Yennefer tugged him and kissed his cheek. "You better come back in one piece, Witcher - or else."

He chuckled. "For you, always." She gave him a meek smile - but a smile nonetheless - and released him.

Geralt stepped through the portal.

* * *

When he emerged, the Witcher was quickly reminded of why he detested magical means of transport indisputably. Ciri and Philippa, who had taken a separate portal, were nowhere to be seen and his skin was drawn tightly over his body. He took a couple of steadying breaths and tried to shake off the lingering effects of his unfavourable travel. Then he stood for a while and listened, hoping to found a noise out of place amongst the sound of the city. It took only a few moments for him to find it as the streets were unusually still and he took it as a bad omen. When the drunkards and homeless go missing in the city at night, one can be sure that something is amiss.

Geralt walked briskly through damp and dingy alleys, spying only wild street dogs and filthy rats along the way. The streets were far to calm and unassuming for his liking and Gearlt felt with increasing certainty that he was being led into a trap, yet with nowhere else to turn he had no choice but to head towards the commotion. Eventually, he found his way to what he presumed was the town square and pressing his back up against the wall.

A mob of thirty or more heads was swarming around an old and boarded up two-story building with small windows and peeling colour. He watched the men from the shadows as tables and chairs and benches passed over the crowd and were stacked up against the building's old wooden doors. Geralt frowned, this wasn't the situation he'd been expecting, the mob didn't appear the least bit interested in reaching the small group inside and had trapped them instead. Though he wasn't certain for what reason they'd changed tactic, he knew that it spelt disaster either way.

The Witcher pulled down the hood of his cloak and shouldered through the crowd, the tide pushing and groping him as he battled through. As he neared the brothel a squat little man pulled the end of his cloak and started cursing his mother, refusing to let him be because he was a pox on the world or something along those lines. Geralt didn't care much for his insults but still took pleasure in delivering a swift punch to the man's face knocking him to the floor and watching him roll around, whimpering in a puddle of piss. Those closest to him stepped back leaving Geralt alone at the front of the mob which was whispering behind his back.

Before him, his feet planted wide on the steps of the brothel, stood a tall and plump man draped in a black leather apron, his head bald and wrinkled like a rotten egg. He was glowering down at the Witcher with a flaming torch in his hand and when he raised a hand for silence, the mob obeyed without question.

"Move aside good sir, this here's no business of yours. Unless you'd like to watch these freaks burn with us, you'll stay out of my way. You strike me as a sensible man who knows what's best for him," he said in a deep voice which rolled across the town square. The bald man did not take his eyes off Geralt's face, perhaps trying to distinguish his features under the shadow of his hood. Whether he found something of interest there, he couldn't tell, but the smirk slid off his face and he spat at Geralt's feet. "Answer me!"

"I care not for the freaks, do with them what you will, but I'd rather not watch the city burn for them. The wind will spread your flames over half of Dorian."

Behind him, the crowd descended into whispers and Geralt could hear arguments and shouting breaking out. He'd driven a wedge between the group and while he doubted he could talk the mob down he welcomed the extra time for Ciri and Philippa had yet to appear. The bald man looked away from the Witcher and tried to hush his men. Silence fell again over the square and the leader came down the steps towards the mysterious figure. His eyes were narrowed at Geralt and he could see a vein throbbing in his neck as the torch shook in his fat hands.

"Do you really wish to throw your lot in with these freaks?" he asked, spittle flying onto the front of the Witcher's cloak.

Geralt grunted in disgust. "No, I'm simply not willing to let our houses burn for them. You'd been doing more harm than good by torching that place and perhaps doing more harm than the freaks," he said calmly. The words tasted bitter in his mouth and his voice sounded cold and twisted. He'd not be surprised if his brothers couldn't tell that it was he who stood outside their door.

"Enough!" the bald man yelled over the Witcher's head. The cobblestone shuddered under the force of his anger and the few that had begun to wander away from the group frozen on the spot. "The flames of the Eternal Fire will purge this sin from our city. None but freaks have anything to fear!"

Geralt dived at the man as he drew back his arm and the torch clattered to the floor as they tumbled down the steps. There was a brief silence before the crowd erupted.

Fists and kicks flew around the mob as they turned on each other, beating anyone within reach without a care for what they were fighting for. The Witcher's fist was coated in blood and the bald man lay crumbled at his feet. He got up and stamped on the torch, extinguishing its flame and throwing the stick across several houses. As the battle raged on Geralt flew up the steps and pounded on the wall trying to make himself heard over the mob. His back was turned for no more than minute, yet when he looked upon the battle once again fire glowed within it and the thatched roof of the brothel began to smoulder as torches sailed past his head. A bloodcurdling cheer rose up around the square as the building lit up like a beacon of the Eternal Fire.

Several people rushed towards the building with torches and the Witcher sprang towards them his cloak falling to the floor behind him. The runes on his steel sword blazed ominously against the darkness and the men looked upon them with terror welling in their eyes.

"Move back," the Witcher growled and the edge of the mob retreated, some of the men who'd tried to assault him dropping their torches on the spot. The last of the fighting died away, around two-thirds of the men still standing on their own two feet. He could see weapons in the hands of most and he felt his chest burn as he caught sight of three metal fangs amongst them.

"Another freak!" cried the man holding the weapon. "Look at his eyes. Cat eyes! What are you afraid of, cowards! There's but one of him, let's cut him down!" The Witcher's heart sank and his blood ran cold as they slowly marched towards him. He counted six- no, seven pitchforks among them and an image of Yennefer screaming his name in the clutches of a nightmare surfaced into his mind. She was crying in the bed alone.

"He's not just any freak, mind you, but the Butcher and Blaviken and White Orchard, the White Wolf himself!" The mob broke ranks as the new voice echoed around them. Thinking quickly, Geralt snarled nastily at the men, flexing his muscles and catching the light of the fire on his sword. The performance felt strange and unnatural to him, but his show paid off as almost half of the men backed away. "If I were you, I'd run for your lives… Or your blood will soak the cobblestones."

Out of the corner of his eye, Geralt saw Ciri step out into the town square with Zireal in her hand emanating an unusual red glow which made his medallion tremble. She walked past the Witcher and jumped down the steps, standing within arms reach of the mob. He watched her closely, not sure what she had in mind yet trusting her with his life all the same.

"But, if you're too stupid to fear him..." the crowd drew together as Ciri vanished in a flash of light, tripping over each other's feet. "Then fear me!" There was a cacophony of shouting and screaming, all manner of weapons clattering to the floor as the men dashed away leaving the town square empty and quiet. They gave Ciri, who'd materialized behind them, a wide berth and would have fainted if she'd whispered so much as 'boo'.

The last few men were scurrying away when Philippa flew down from the rooftop and ushered Geralt away from the brothel. She held her hands before her and a web of purple light crept over the barricade and when the net shattered like glass the objects covering the door were blown in all directions and the door flew asunder with an almighty crack. A billow of smoke writhed up into the night sky as three figures emerged, a woman being supported by two men. Keira, Eskel and Lambert spluttered and coughed, staggering a couple of metres from the house and dropping to the floor.

Geralt knelt on the floor beside them, watching in silence as they gasped for air and retched. He kept a lookout for stranglers as they caught their breath, but the town square was now utterly abandoned save for them, though still, he felt sure they were being watched. Eskel moved up beside him as he waited and the brothers embraced, slapping each other on the back as was their custom.

"Is everyone alright?" asked Geralt.

He pounded a fist against his chest and cleared his throat, his face, hair and clothes were covered in ash and grime. "Yea, we're fine, other than a dirty pair of lungs. Though things were looking pretty bad in there for a while." Geralt nodded his head, it had been a close call for them and Eskel only knew the half of it. Truthfully, he'd rather have been trapped inside the brothel than facing down yet another mob.

The two Witchers talked in hushed whispers as Ciri went to fetch some water for Keira, the Sorceress was doubled over and choking up soot and Lambert told them she'd inhaled a lot of smoke in an attempt to cast a spell. He stayed beside her, holding her hair and rubbing circles on the small of her back. When Ciri returned Keira and the Witchers swarmed around the bucket of water and almost emptied its contents. Philippa paced beside them impatiently.

"It was nice of you to show, Geralt, and with darling Phil and Ciri. I dare to think what would have become of us if you didn't have the Xenovox. Honestly, I'm surprised you kept it after all this time," said Keira.

Geralt shrugged. "You said it was valuable, wouldn't throw something like that away. Besides, I thought Lambert might want it." The other Witcher glowered at him behind Keira's back and he smirked. Lambert would never be able to escape the Sorceress as long as he had the box, and Geralt knew he'd never dare to throw away something that belonged to her. Especially when the item was so rare and irreplaceable.

As Lambert scowled at him Philippa leaned over Keira, who had water trickling down her face. "How did things get so out of hand, Keira? The one thing you needed to do was stay clear of trouble and yet here we are." The roof of the brothel was beginning to cave in and by the end of the night, nothing would be left of the old building. Geralt wondered what the waking city would make of the wreckage.

"Surprisingly enough, Phil, this wasn't what we wanted either. We kept hidden in the brothel, but someone must have seen us because not long after that mob turned up on our doorstep," Keira blustered. She stood up and started beating soot from her dress - with little to no success. It was also torn in several places and looked expensive.

Philippa waved a hand in the air and walked around her, carefully avoiding the muck and water as her dress skimmed over the cobblestone. "We can speak of this later, Keira, it's time to leave. I've had enough of this night and its unruly surprises."

Speaking the elder speech with clarity, a swirling portal filled the town square with light and she was swallowed by its depths along with Eskel while Lambert followed Keira.

"I hate portals," muttered Geralt, taking Ciri's hand. There was another flash of light and the pair vanished without a trace. As darkness returned to the empty square the mob went their separate ways and never spoke a word about that night, not even as rumours circulated around Dorian about the mysterious fire. In the morning they awoke with no memory of what had transpired and no explanation for their wives and families about their dishevelled clothes, and their cuts and bruises.

* * *

The room was filled with niggling buzzing and idle chit-chat, the Lodge's guests conversing endlessly about pointless things. Yennefer longed for silence; her head was ringing from all the noise but she could not leave just yet. She sat in an armchair by the window, legs pulled up onto the soft cushions on which she sat as the Sorceress waited anxiously for their return. One arm supported the other as she held a hand to her face, a finger pressed against her lips as she gazed into the night sky without truly seeing it. Yennefer felt sick; she should have gone with him. It was a bad idea, true - but still, she wished she was there with them and that Geralt hadn't talked her out of it. The stupid loath and his sweet words.

Yennefer watched the clouds pass over Gors Velen and tried not to think about it, but it was an impossible feat and she knew it. Her mind was drawn back to Rivia and while the memory felt old and distant, it was painfully clear all the same. Blood trickling down the cobblestone and pooling on his chest and by her feet, the light fading from his eyes as she tried to stop the bleeding. Yennefer knew then, as she looked down upon the wound, that there was nothing she could do to save her beloved. Yet her heart could not bear the loss and begged for her to try, pushing her to new limits until she collapsed beside him, her light fading with his.

Yennefer blinked and rubbed her temples. She felt just as helpless now, if not more so, and wished that Geralt's wish still bound them. Perhaps then she'd know if something was wrong, or, if it was, that she'd not have to bear the pain of losing him. The thought disgusted her, however, and she scolded herself for being selfish.

The Sorceress looked away from the window and keenly searched the room with her eyes. She listened to snippets of conversation but nothing was able to catch her attention and keep her mind from wandering. Occasionally, as she watched the group, Yennefer caught Triss looking sideways at her from across the room, her eyes quickly turning away. She was standing with Dandelion and Zoltan in the corner, saying little and responding to their questions and jests with short, hasty comments. When Triss saw that she was staring at her she blushed and hide behind her goblet and didn't look at her again. Yennefer was pleased. She hadn't the patience or strength to deal with the Sorceress tonight and she despised her feigned concern.

When she'd finished studying the room, Yennefer turned back to the window with glossy eyes and was close to deciding she should go after them when a pulse of magic passed through her. She held her breath and watched the door which opened a few seconds later, smoke trailing behind the small group as they entered. Yennefer's hands trembled in her lap as they dropped from her face and the room swayed in and out of focus. She dug her nails into her forearms as she looked over the group with blurred eyes and tried to listen to what they had to say. None would look in her direction and she dared not ask what had happened, though catches of conversation rang in her ears. Talk of freaks and mobs, and of fires and bigots. Yennefer almost choked, her heart was beating without pause and she closed her eyes feeling faint.

She didn't notice the group leave or hear the room break into conversation like nothing had happened. Nor did she notice the eyes which had fallen upon her as she sank further and further into her chair.

"Yen..." Blinking, she squinted across the room. Two figures were standing in the doorway and hurried towards her. Though concern lined his face the Witcher smiled as he neared her, and Yennefer knew that she too was smiling stupidly for all the world to see, but she let her smile be, along with the tears caught in her lashes. She felt giddy with relief and seemed to fall into Geralt's arms when he reached her, pressing her cheek close to his heart and feeling the heat of his body. They could have been like that for hours and she'd be none the wiser. Everything moved in slow motion as he held her, whispering tenderly into her hair and pressing his hand against her back so she couldn't slip away. Yennefer couldn't remember who'd pulled away first, or after how long, but she recalled guiding their lips together and feeling a comforting warmth settle in her chest as though she were dreaming. Now that the panic was gone she felt foolish, except she was pleased to be a happy fool.

Geralt kept his arm draped lightly across her back when they'd pulled apart and his body helped to shield her from the room's curious glances and open stares. Yennefer wasn't overly fond of the attention, particularly of having her private life on show, and found comfort in knowing she wasn't entirely on display. As the room talked brashly amongst themselves, the Sorceress questioned Ciri and Geralt about Dorian thoroughly and they assured her several times that they were neither cut nor burned, despite the smell. When she was satisfied that this was indeed the truth the pair turned the tables on her and tried to hurry her along to bed, not listening, as she had done, to her reassurances that the world would not end if they sat together for a while. After a brief argument, Yennefer conceded without much of a struggle and bid Ciri goodnight.

* * *

She walked arm in arm with Geralt down the empty paths of Loxia, watching the light of the moon break against the sea. There were only a handful of lanterns still lit to ward off the dark, young students working, as she had done, well into the morning. Yennefer had few pleasant memories of this place, she'd seldom laughed or smiled here yet she did not look upon the school unfavourably. She'd learnt much in Thanedd and owed it a great debt that none could claim for she was the only one left living who knew of its existence.

As they walked along the cliff, Yennefer began to lean heavily against the Witcher and struggled for breath. With the dread and concern washed from her system, the Sorceress had little energy left to draw upon and her body was shutting down. She'd never craved sleep this badly before and when they finally reached their room Geralt was almost carrying her. Yennefer slipped onto the bed and sighed, feeling as though she'd fall asleep right where she lay if she closed her eyes. However, she was not quite that desperate and sat up on the edge of the bed to begin the laborious and unappealing, yet necessary, task of removing her clothes.

She let her shoes and clothes pile on the floor by her feet, caring not a bit about creases and wrinkles, they didn't seem such a bother anymore. Geralt was standing beside her and silently dropped a silk nightgown in her lap, but rather than watching her change, as was routine, he collected her discarded clothes and folded them neatly. Yennefer was amused by his sudden change of heart regarding the condition of her wardrobe, too much so to be annoyed about his blatant mother-henning.

As he tended to her clothes, and in part her future mood, Yennefer slowly stood up and ambled towards the dresser. A large mirror hung above it framed in silver and she stared at her changed reflection, brushing her hair aside to look at the gash on her forehead. I didn't look deep but it was certainly the main source of her splitting migraine and she wondered if it would heal in time for the banquet. Geralt moved up behind her as she tilted her head, running a finger over the faint burn marks on her skin, and closed his arms around her waist. One of his hands strayed down her leg and Geralt lifted her off her feet, carrying her bridal style towards the bed and silencing her protests with kisses.

"There's one more thing we need to take care of," he said, lowering Yennefer onto the bed. She watched him collect a few boxes and bottles from a trunk at the end of their bed which he then set down on the closest bedside table. Perching on the edge of the bed, Geralt gently held her chin with his fingers and dabbed the cut on her forehead and cheek with a warm, wet cloth. Yennefer rolled her eyes, she could have quite easily done this herself, she wasn't decrepit, but she knew that it would help set Geralt's mind at ease and she was willing to make this sacrifice for his sake.

"Just a few more days, Geralt, and we'll have our peace back for good," she murmured. Her eyelids were growing heavy and the cloth in Geralt's hand was heavily scented with herbs she recognized but could not currently name. It reminded her of home.

"Just a few more days," he repeated.

"I've not missed long days and nights like these, nor waking to your troubled face. Though I must admit that it is an oddly charming and endearing look." Yennefer wasn't sure if he'd heard her, doubtful if she'd spoken at all. Perhaps she was already dreaming because she no longer knew how to tell the difference.

She felt someone carefully pat and dry her face and her cuts tingled and went numb as cream was smeared over her skin and arms. "I'll always worry about you, Yen. You can't stop me... I love you."

"And I love you, Geralt."

* * *

Yennefer's eyes fell shut as he finished rubbing cream into her wounds and they did not open again until the morning came. She slept peacefully as Geralt changed out of his armour and looked over his cuts and scrapes for the first time. There were few of them and they were already healing well so he left them alone. Leaning over the basin in the corner he splashed cold water over his face and sat for a little while beside the bed. Though they were deep within the walls and halls of Thanedd, Geralt didn't feel safe and was reluctant to sleep.

Something peculiar had crossed his path not long after he'd left the city of Vizima and it remained close at hand following him from there to Gors Velen and to Dorian and back again. He wasn't sure what it was, it was entirely unfamiliar, though he was certain that he didn't like it and wished greatly to be rid of it. Geralt felt threatened by it and his heart grew heavy with dread whenever he felt its eyes upon him and those close by. He'd not thought much of it at first, thinking the sensation to be born of his imagination, but after what had happened in the last two days he could no longer push it aside. Perhaps he'd simply stayed too long in the comfort of Toussaint and the outside world had become daunting to him for he was unfamiliar with the shadows and darkness that fell upon it. He truly hoped it was so. The Witcher sighed and rubbed his chin.

He looked over at the bed; sleep had transformed Yennefer's face, lighting up and softening her features, removing all traces of worry and weariness for a time. He pulled the cover over her shoulders and brushed loose strands of hair from her face as she rolled over, muttering softly, and climbed into bed beside her. Geralt held her close to his chest, her breath tickling his arm and her head tucked comfortably under his chin. The scent of her hair and feel of her heat and her heart against his skin was enough to lull him to sleep after long hours spent within troubled thoughts.

* * *

Richard Bach:  **Chapter 5, The Meeting**

"The bond that links your true family is not one of blood, but of respect and joy in each other's life."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, guys, hope you enjoyed the latest chapter, feel free to leave comments or PM me, I love hearing from you.
> 
> The long day from the cave to Gors Velen is finally over and the meeting can begin. I hope the Yennefer and Geralt fluff towards the end makes up for what I did to Yen DaisyOfGalaxy (I'm trying my best but I'm not sure fluff comes naturally to me!)
> 
> This plot seems to be becoming more mysterious by the chapter…what could happen next? I'd love people to PM me your ideas about what's going on if you like to speculate and figure things out like me, also to see how subtle my hints are.
> 
> Massive shout out to vic-of-thor (Tumblr) for all the kind words and support and to korbel05 ( ) for all the feedback and suggestions.
> 
> Until next time guys, have a great week – Eileniessa


	6. The Meeting

Warnings:

**Contains spoilers for the Witcher 3 Wild Hunt, Time of Contempt and The Lady of the Lake**

* * *

 

Richard Bach: 

“The bond that links your true family is not one of blood, but of respect and joy in each other's life.”

* * *

Beams of fresh morning light greeted the lovers as they awoke from their thankfully peaceful and rejuvenating sleep. Geralt watched Yennefer carefully as she got ready for breakfast but didn't see any signs of fatigue still lingering from the spell and his gaze did not go unnoticed as she smiled at him mischievously suggesting several other ways she could assure him her strength had returned, but that it would have to wait until dark. As they left their room they found Ciri already waiting outside for them.

The young ashen-haired woman sat on the balustrade with the sight of the sea behind her, the accommodation for the new school was located at the lowest level and looked as though it cut into the rock supporting Thanedd. The rooms were all connected in one long line that curled around the base of the island along with a wide stone pathway and various stairs leading back up to the rest of the school.

"Too impatient to meet us at breakfast?" Said Yennefer as she walked over to Ciri, her raven locks rustling in the gentle sea breeze.

"Like mother like daughter." Said Geralt smiling as he looked between the pair.

"Well, when I have the excuse to spend some time with you I intend to make the most of it." Replied Ciri jumping down from her perch. "Besides, Philippa's up there and she's even more irritating than usual, the meeting hasn't even begun yet and things are already falling apart."

"I can't imagine her mood will improve much," said the sorceress, "I'm not sure how realistic she's being if she thinks she can control people like Cerys and Roche like she can the Lodge. I think I might find it rather pleasing to witness."

"Yen, look me in the eye, and tell me you're not planning to try and test Philippa any more than you already have."

"I don't have to try." Ciri chuckled slightly.

"She practically walked a hole in the floor waiting for you and was seething with so much anger the others kept well clear of her. The look on her face right before she flew out of the inn, I'm was sure I heard her mention Yennefer's name and something rather unpleasant as well, I don't know what I thought she'd do which is why you gave me such a fright when I saw you covered in blood and scratches."

Summoned like the devil himself an owl suddenly came soaring down the stairs several metres from their right and Philippa emerged in a cloud of smoke and began to cast a spell causing the rune in her hand to glow with magic. Several seconds later a handful of rooms, presumably belonging to the guests of the Lodge, were filled with bright light most likely the sorceress' way of informing them to get up, and Geralt was sure he heard a distant voice belonging to Lambert swear.

"If that overgrown owl so much as tried to scratch me then some fortunate passer-by would be having roast bird for the next week. I dare say she'd be more useful that way anyhow." At the sound of muffled laughter, Phil turned her head to the small group catching Yennefer's eye as she smiled at Geralt and Ciri.

"What are you standing around for, get up to the hall now, most of the others are ready and waiting." She said venomously, glaring suspiciously at them.

"Ciri come inside for a moment, we have something important to tell you, away from prying ears." She walked back into their room, leaving the door wide open for the others. The young woman looked at the Witcher curiously.

"It's good news, promise." He replied as the pair followed after her, hurriedly slamming the door shut behind them to prevent any unwanted guests swooping in on them.

Geralt was wrong, it wasn't just good news, but also long overdue.

* * *

They were the last to arrive and barely had time to finish eating a few meagrely pieces of fruit and a slice of fresh bread each before Eilhart called the group to the meeting room, pointedly glaring at the late comers, Geralt and Ciri reluctantly following bellies still growling from hunger but Yennefer looked as though the price had been worth it.

The intended location for the talks was as beautiful as it was intimidating. A large marble table shaped and structured like a ring was centred in the middle of the room. The table looked as though it had been cut into quarters and slightly pulled apart leaving four pathways between the segments which allowed people to stand in the circular space enclosed by the table. Several intrinsically carved wooden chairs were places around the smoothed edges of the table, facing the inside of the circle.

The other members of the Lodge, Triss, Rita, Keira, Fringilla, Francesca and Ida were already seated on one of the segments towards the back of the room, their backs to the balcony hidden behind the large glass doors and windows that towered above them, filling the room with the morning's light. Philippa moved to the middle of the circle and stood there with her arms crossed expectantly and the others quickly took their seats, Yennefer, Ciri and Geralt sat together as far away from the Lodge as possible and the others soon spread themselves out around the room and when everyone had seated Philippa spoke, her voice even louder and clearer than usual, as though magically amplified.

"Now everyone is finally here let us begin. The Lodge wishes to detail a chronologically accurate timeline and an account of the events surrounding the Wild Hunt as well as gather information on these spectres should they ever again pose a threat. Listen attentively to ensure no detail is spared and do not speak unless it is to provide us with the information we ask of you." She made her way over to the vacant seat in the middle of the other members of the Lodge and looked one final time around the room before sitting down. "Now, let's start from the very beginning."

* * *

The meeting progressed slowly as Ciri, Yennefer, Geralt and Dandelion started off the timeline with the details of their initial encounter with the Red Riders just outside of Gors Velen. Philippa, Francesca and Ida tried to squeeze every minute detail out of the group which infuriated Yennefer as Ciri became noticeably agitated and uncomfortable about the questions relating to her time in Tir ná Lia.

"The Lodge demands ever detail and you, Yennefer, have no right to question what we believe is necessary. Stop interrupting and be quiet before you do yourself irreversible harm."

"How dare you question the word of my daughter! If she says there is nothing else to tell then the Lodge shall leave her be. Save your breathe Philippa, for someone who can be fooled by your idle threats and displays of power."

"The Lodge will see you punished for-"

"Anyone who tries will also have Geralt and me to contend with, we three are rather inseparable. And I's sure my father, the Emperor, will be informed of any move you make against us." The group was forced to take an early lunch as tensions were on the verge of breaking point.

After Ciri's tale of the elven home-world, things progressed more easily and the group were riveted to their seats as the Lady of Space and Time described some of the places she had been before the Hunt forced her to move on, with looks of amazement mixed with utter disbelief. All apart from Yennefer and Geralt, who had already heard the countless tales of her adventures. Ciri's monologue about her travels ended when she reached the point at which she had gotten wind that Yennefer had been kidnapped by Eredin, the point the sorceress and Witcher had been dreading.

Very few of the questions thrown their way were meet with clear and certain answers, to them their time with the hunt was nothing but the lingering fragments of thoughts and images that accompanied a dispelled nightmare. The Lodge slowly tried to piece together what happened but mostly it was speculation, with nothing more than muddled memories of sounds, smells and flashes of sight to base it on. It seemed likely that a battle had commenced before Yennefer's capture, both recalling the smell of blood and burnt flesh, and the feeling of hopelessness. Geralt's sudden sensation of sickness and dread confused the group until Triss proposed the idea that Yennefer must have teleported him away as her memory after that point becomes even more ambiguous and, looking at each other the pair nodded in unison, the scenario seemed plausible to them.

The Witcher's memories about tracking the hunt were also vague, the story of his journey to catch the riders had little detail that could be of any use to the Lodge. However, both Yennefer and Geralt could account for the exchange with Eredin in surprising detail when compared to their other memories, perhaps because for each, it was so significant to them.

With the chance of any information from the Witcher's time with the hunt clearly out of the question, the focus was once again placed on Ciri who's tale continued from hearing the news to meeting Avallac'h who warned her of the Wild Hunt's trap, offering to train and aid her for the sake of keeping her from the wrong hands. Eventually, with his help Ciri was able to release Geralt before once again going on the run with her new companion, losing them for a time until she made the decision to return home, to Yennefer and Geralt.

Geralt provided some extra information about Ciri's time in Skellige, Velen and Novigrad, mostly about what had become of those who stumbled unknowingly across the Wild Hunts search. The first round of discussions ended at the moon began to set in the night sky, illuminating the tale of Ciri and Geralt's reunion and preparations for the upcoming battle. As they retired to eat Ciri was exhausted in more way than one and Yennefer hastily made up an excuse to drag her away, as the curious minds of the other members, such as Dandelion, bombarded her with yet more questions about her travel between worlds.

* * *

"Yen, where are we going?" Asked Geralt as he and Ciri followed Yennefer up a seemingly endless flight of stairs.

"You'll see soon enough." Several moments later slits of dim light began to spill down the stairs as they ascended into a glass dome encapsulating the top of what must have been the tallest tower in the school. The various translucent panels making up the dome splintered the moonlight which passed through them shooting fragments of light around the room which made it look as though they were hovering in the night sky surrounded by hundreds of magnificent, pale, glistening stars.

"This is absolutely beautiful." Said Ciri as she held her arms out in front of her, watching the light dance across them making her skin sparkle under their touch.

"Worth the wait, wasn't it?" Said Yennefer, smiling at the mesmerised look on the young woman's face. "Here, come sit." The sorceress sat down on a large blanket which had been lain across the stone floor, her back against the iron railings enclosing the stairs, gesturing for the others to join her as she a rearranged some of the cushions to make room.

"Always full of surprises." Said Geralt as he sat down next to her, their shoulders brushing together while Ciri sat cross-legged opposite the pair watching the pattern the light cast across the floor.

"Well, I have to keep you on your toes somehow. Open the basket, my dear." Yennefer said, gesturing towards Ciri and the object lying just beside her. First, she pulled out a bottle of wine, passing it to Geralt to open along with three glasses before removing a small rectangular wooden box from the basket, her face lighting up as she took off the lid.

"Are these the chocolates from that old bakery in Vengerberg?" She asked in amazement and Yennefer nodded.

"Whenever we used to go shopping in Vengerberg you always insisted on getting some, no matter how in a hurry we were or how late it was."

"I remember. You used to complain about it, but always bought me some." The young woman took one of the square pieces from the box and bit into it rolling her eyes in delight, quickly consuming the other half. "I forgot how much I missed these, thank you."

"You've always had us wrapped around your little finger Ciri." Said Geralt, smiling at Yennefer as she rested her head against his shoulder, satisfied that her gift had been a success. "But that doesn't mean you're allowed to eat them all by yourself."

The lights filling the school slowly began to die down as they just sat there peacefully, drinking wine, eating and talking about small, irrelevant things that brought them joy, Geralt's tale about Yennefer's new friend Bert the Rock Troll bringing Ciri considerably joy as she lay on her back, gazing up at the night sky with her head in the sorceress' lap, Yennefer gently stroking her head. The time to leave seemed to come far too quickly as they reluctantly got to their feet ready to make the journey back to their accommodation for the night.

"This feels, well, so much like home, and I think I needed that, and I think you know I did. Thank you, mother." Said Ciri as she hugged Yennefer affectionately, the small candy box still clutched tightly in one hand, a keepsake of this calm evening. Geralt gently took Yennefer's hand in his as she made to follow Ciri down the long flight of stairs, pulling her closer.

"I love you, Yen." He whispered tenderly in her ear, placing a kiss on her smiling lips as their eyes met. "Never change." She placed a soft hand against his face, running her thumb gently over his cheek.

"How could I, if it meant losing all this, my love." Slowly she broke away still holding the Witcher's warm hand in hers as she lead him down the stairs after their Witcheress.

* * *

The second round of the meetings progressed, in the morning, in a similar fashion to the previous day as discussions continued from battle preparations to the battle at Kaer Morhen, and Roche, Ves, Eskel, Lambert, Keira, Ermion, Zoltan and Hjalmar looked relieved to finally have something to do. Each party told their version of what occurred and the Lodge compared their accounts creating a detailed timeline of precisely what was happening, when and where. Things once again became uncomfortable and emotional when Ciri was forced to remember the events surrounding Vesemir's death, but this time neither Philippa, Ida or Francesca pressed her for information.

Details then turned to Geralt and Ciri's journey to the Bald Mountain in search of Imlerith, then to the Witcher's adventures with Avallac'h through time and space as they convinced Ge'els, with the help of Corinne Tilly, to withhold support from Eredin. At which point it was time for the final battle. The meeting progressed quickly through this stage, as several members of the Lodge were already present, but Geralt, Ciri and Hjalmar still gave them details about their fight with the hunt while Cerys reported on the damages and losses as well as representing the accounts from various other clans and warriors who took part and with these tales over, talks turned to the white frost. The room waited silently for Ciri, intrigued to hear about the great evil from Ithlinne's Prophecy, Dandelion's hand was practically quivering over the parchment he had been making notes on.

"When I emerged, I was almost blinded by how bright it was, everything was covered in pure white snow and the sky was clear and cloudless, the sun glared down on me but did nothing to stop the biting cold. Then I heard it, something at least, a distant rumbling, and I knew that the White Frost was approaching. That it was now or never. I don't know how I did it, I only remember thinking about home, about Yennefer and Geralt, and knowing that I must do it. Then I woke up back here, Yennefer and Geralt beside me, and Avallac'h, he said it was over, that I had nothing to fear from the Wild Hunt anymore, that he no longer had to fear for me, or for the white frost. That was the last we saw of him."

After the group returned from lunch many of them pondered what the Lodge could possibly want from them next seeing as the timeline had been completed so it came as surprise when they entered the large circular room again to find a small, pear-like sphere hovering just above the pedestal now in the centre of the room, in the gap enclosed by the table. After they sat down Philippa spoke from her position beside the orb.

"Now we have concluded the events surrounding the Wild Hunt we move onto the equally as important second stage. Tactics. The Lodge believes it necessary to learn the strengths and flaws in the Rider's technique, to learn their tactics, to formulate a most effective strategy against them." She raised both her hands to the sphere, placing one on either side and a moment later a ghostly apparition of one of the Wild Hunt's riders appeared on the opposite side of the sphere. "This magical device can record your memories regarding an enemy's fighting style, this is how we will collect the information we need."

One by one the members of the group stepped up to the orb and the first to go was Ciri. As she placed her hands upon it, feeling its warm energy pulsate through her body, the spectral rider emerged. She closed her eyes, thinking back to one of the battles at Kaer Morhen focusing the rider in her mind's eye, and as she did so she was surprised to find herself speaking aloud, saying step by step the Rider's movements in surprising detail and, unknown to her, the apparition in the room moved around exactly the way she described, slightly too slow to be natural, but very accurate.

The same thing occurred as other members such as Eskel, Ves and Zoltan stepped up to the orb, and the spectral rider's movements each time became faster and more accurate until it was acting faster than the subject could speak until eventually it more or less perfectly mirrored its physically manifested counterpart.

"Now that we have an accurate record of their techniques, tomorrow we will focus on successful countermeasures. Be sure to get plenty of rest, we start early and more importantly come prepared for fighting." Philippa left without another word, and Geralt could only imagine what she would have in store for them tomorrow.

* * *

When Eilhart called them all for the start of the third day she did not take them back to the meeting room but deeper into the school. A large circular platform surrounded by stone columns and railings rested atop a small stack of rock some fifty metres away from the main school, connected to it by a flat stone bridge whose pillars sunk into the depths of the sea churning the base of the rock. On the land supporting the school itself, there were rows and rows of tiered, marble seating arranged in a semi-circle cutting into the naturally sloped sides of the school and was directly across from the platform. The first thing that came to Geralt's mind was an arena.

"This," said Rita proudly "is the schools training area. Here students undergo magical testing and can watch practical demonstrations from other students or teachers."

"It's a lot more complicated than what we have on Skellige." Said Hjalmar as he and some of the others moved over to the seating and sat down, as indicated by Rita. "But what's the point of that? At home, we make them simple because then they're a lot easier to rebuild after our warriors smash them to pieces." Several of the sorceresses looked rather amused at this comment.

"Magic preserves the structures," answered Rita, ignoring the look from several of her colleagues, "we wouldn't want to risk a stray spell collapsing some of the pillars on our student, or damaging the platform."

Yennefer, Geralt and Ciri, as always, sat close together near the top and the latter gestured for Cerys to join them, which she did. As they sat down Philippa made her way to the bottom of the seating where there was a large semi-circle stone tile that connected the bottom of the seating to the bridge over to the arena. At its centre were two podiums similar to the one they had seen in the meeting room the previous day and sure enough, the sorceress withdrew the orb from her pocket and placed it upon one of the stands which began to glow with magic. After several minutes three Wild Hunt spectres appeared in the arena, frozen in place.

"The next phase in these meetings is to test which strategies are most effective against the enemy. One by one each of you will enter the arena and demonstrate how you fought the Wild Hunt and the Lodge will gather information on this." From her other pocket, she produced a second pearl like sphere, only this one was as black as night. Carefully she placed into on the second pedestal and turned to the group. "Keira has agreed to go first to demonstrate, watch her closely and be prepared to come forward when requested."

Slowly Keira walked across the bridge entering the arena and coming to stand in the centre nodding towards Rita who then muttered a spell which caused the stone columns around the platform to glow a light blue, and the apparitions began to move. From the perspective of the seating area the battle taking place could well have been real, the spectres' movements were fluid and natural and they reacted to Keira's spells just as they had done in Kaer Morhen.

About ten minutes later and after several waves of Riders, Rita deactivated the spell and the new apparitions which appeared, their predecessors having been vanquished, froze in time. As the sorceress began to leave the arena Geralt and some of the others saw the cut along her arm suddenly vanish as well as the small trickle of blood, the wince on her face was replaced by relief.

"Vernon Roche, make your way to the training area," Philippa called out from her seat beside the two magical orbs as she watched the Blue Stripes Commander reluctantly get to his feet muttering something to Ves before making his way across the stone bridge. Once in the arena, he unsheathed his sword, standing at the ready as he nodded towards Rita who activated the magic. Skilfully Roche cut through the enemies that surrounded him and after several moments three more appeared. This carried on for a quarter of an hour before the apparitions stopped and Roche was called back clutching the wound on his chest that was staining his blue robes, but just as with Keira the second he exited the arena the wound disappeared along with the pain, blood and rip in his clothing.

"I'm not sure what to think about this." He said as he sat back down beside Ves tugging at his shirt in fascination as he turned to Geralt. "It sure felt like I was back at your fortress, and the pain, that was real, I felt it. But now, nothing. I don't like it."

"Ermion, step forward." The group watched as the druid began to descend the tiered-seating.

"At least we don't have to face off against the likes of Imlerith or Eredin again." Said Ciri who was polishing her sword.

"Or Caranthir," said Geralt as he looked at Yennefer mischievously, "and his icy glare."

"Hmmm," said the sorceress smiling back at him, "my spine shivers at the thought."

"I was surprised when he went cold-turkey at Kaer Morhen."

"He probably got cold feet seeing all the carnage."

"When his touch could chill you to the bone?"

"But you know what they say, cold hands means a warm heart." Geralt paused for several seconds watching the smile of Yennefer's face grew even wider before his shoulders slumped in defeat.

"Fine, you win Yen, this time."

"Ha!" The others were looking at them with a mix of amusement and curiosity, Ciri and Zoltan were chuckling to themselves.

"Somethings never change." Said the ashen-haired woman. "I've missed things like this."

One by one individuals from the group were called up to the arena fighting various waves of monsters, sometimes for several minutes, sometimes for up to half an hour, all leaving the platform with a puzzled expression as their pain and wounds vanished as they re-joined the curious onlookers talking and laughing among themselves. Overhead the clouds crackled silently with his magic.

* * *

 

Christina Rossetti - _Soeur Louise De La Misericorde:_ **Chapter 6, Lightning**

I have desire, I have been desired;

But now the days are over of desire,

Now dust and dying embers mock my fire;

Where is the hire for which my life was hired?

Oh vanity of vanities, desire!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys, I did it! I managed a word play, it took so long but it's done, now I can rest easy! (Please no more word plays) Hope you enjoyed the latest chapter and all the blood sweat and tears I put into that Icy exchange at the end. Feel free to leave comments or PM me as I love hearing from you guys.
> 
> What did you think of the meeting and my little interpretation of the events on the Isle? Bet you didn't expect there would be physical aspects to the Lodge's plan as well! Hope you liked the little family scene in the tower, really enjoyed writing that part :)
> 
> Massive shout out to vic-of-thor (tumblr) for all the kind words and support and to korbel05 (fanfiction) for all the feedback and suggestions.
> 
> So, on the chapter's rather ominous note, until next time guys, have a great week – Eileniessa


	7. Lightning

Warnings:

**Contains spoilers for the Witcher 3 Wild Hunt and The Lady of the Lake**

* * *

Christina Rossetti - _Soeur Louise De La Misericorde_

I have desire, I have been desired;

But now the days are over of desire,

Now dust and dying embers mock my fire;

Where is the hire for which my life was hired?

Oh vanity of vanities, desire!

* * *

As the day went on more and more of the school's students began to gather around the arena watching the fights with great interest, especially when it came time for the Witchers to test themselves, and first up was Geralt. Yennefer and Ciri looked on as he cut his way through countless apparitions, and the former began to ponder Philippa and Rita's new image for the school, she wasn't sure such a facility would have been to Tissaia de Vries' liking and that thought saddened her. After a few minutes, the sorceress turned her thoughts and her gaze elsewhere before rising to her feet.

"Triss, Fringilla, I'd like a word." Yennefer's voice seemed restrained, but there was a coldness to it which could have frozen running water, the other two women looked at her, then at each other, before reluctantly getting to their feet. Triss felt as though she was trailing a bad omen as they followed the raven-haired enchantress away from the arena to a secluded corner nearby. Dread and apprehension drowned her senses, she knew they had this coming, but that didn't make it an easier as Yennefer turned on them, violet eyes sparkling menacingly, locks cascading around her like writhing snakes ready to bite anything that so much as twitched.

"This needs to end, now, once and for all. I cannot bear to sit there any longer and watch you two stare starry-eyed, like some lost lover from a shitty romance novel, at Geralt." She took a step forward and it took all their courage not to step away from the threating scent of lilac and gooseberries enveloped the air around them. Silently Fringilla thanked her luck that she had applied her special spell to stop blushing this morning, unfortunately, Triss evidently didn't have such luck, he cheeks glowing like dying embers. The Nilfgaardian briefly considered whether or not she should share her spell but decided against, it was her little secret after all.

"He's my man, you understand that? While I hate the way you look at him, that hate is no longer born from jealousy, but something else." They desperately continued to meet her gaze and Yennefer could see confusion flash across their eyes. "He's made certain promises to me, I no longer doubt that he could ever be anyone but my man, which is why I ask you to stop this. For his sake. Your dreamy, wistful eyes pain him, can't you see that?! Let him move on, for everyone's sake." Silence hung in the air so thick Yennefer's piercing gaze could have sliced it as she waited for her words to sink in, and Fringilla was the first to speak.

"You have nothing to fear from me Yennefer, I made a mistake and I don't ever intend to repeat it." She drew herself up to her full height as she spoke but somehow, even with her remarkable small stature, the other sorceress still appeared to loom over her.

"I believe you are sincere, especially after what I've heard. Leave us." As Yennefer's violet eyes shifted from her as she released a breath she didn't realize she'd been holding and swiftly departed, avoiding Triss' pleading gaze. "You, on the other hand, Triss, have yet to learn a thing. It's time to put an end to this selfish desire, as of right now! Put Geralt out of your mind once and for all. While I could no longer ever conceive of you giving him temptation and used to delight at watching your lips tremble and your hands quiver under his famous look as you pitifully sought his forgiveness for all the wrong you have done him, Ciri and I, that time has long passed. I no longer care if you receive his forgiveness but I do care about the pain you and your love-stricken attitude cause him because he is my love."

"I understand Yennefer." Said Triss coldly as the fear induced by Yennefer's dangerous glare was overridden by her own anger and spite. "And you also understand that it's not that simple. How many times, before Ciri, did you two argue and break-up and you tried to forget about him, burying yourself in new spells, politics, men even, like Istredd, to name but one."

"Don't you dare test my patience! And don't you dare compare yourself to me you poisonous-"

"Why not?! You're a hypocrite. You never managed to move on Yennefer! But-"

"For once in your life stop cowering from the consequences of your actions! He's my man Triss, he always has been and always will be! You've wronged us both, grow up and face that, you cannot live in this chimerical reality any longer."

"You'll never change Yennefer! You're not here for Geralt but getting your revenge on me, think of all the people you've ever wronged! You vindictive hypocrite!" The two were practically face to face, their movements inflated in a display of primitive aggression.

"At least I've never betrayed someone I considered a dear friend for the sake of my own selfish voyeurism!" Yennefer was filled with bitter-sweet satisfaction and the corner of her lips twisted into a spiteful smile as Triss averted her eyes and her posture deflated.

"I'd be foolish to think you could forgive me," she said after a few moments, raising her eyes from the floor, trying to swallow the lump which had formed in her throat. "no matter what I do. But I've lost the will to hold that against you anymore. For his sake, as you say, but also for yours and for mine, I can ensure never to remind Geralt of his mistake but you cannot force myself to forget what has been." Yennefer seemed to scrutinize her for a moment, and Triss forced herself to look into her penetrating violet eyes, now a bottomless as the ocean.

"Good. Then enough talk." Stormy locks billowing behind her as she stormed off leaving Triss alone with her thoughts.

* * *

When Yennefer re-joined the group the look on her face confirmed what Ciri thought, especially when she saw Triss sit down several seconds later, looking anywhere but at the arena where Geralt was still fighting. At least they've gotten it out of the way, she thought to herself, yet despite Triss' dejected face, Ciri found herself oddly dispassionate towards her.

"How are you feeling?" Yennefer asked several minutes later as the Witcher returned from the arena eyes trailing behind him.

"I'm getting old." He replied plainly, wiping the sweat from his brow.

"You've gotten out of shape in your retirement." Ciri joked, prodding him in the arm as he took off his swords and placed them on the bench.

"Come here." Geralt understood what Yennefer meant and was quick to comply as he pulled off the armor and shirt covering his upper body and knelt on the ground in front of her with his back to the sorceress. Ciri was sure she heard several of the students sigh dreamily before turning their jealous gazes on Yennefer as she lightly rubbed her hands, which were pulsating with soothing white magic, over his back and shoulders loosening up and relaxing his muscles. All her spare time in Toussaint had provided her with the much-needed opportunity to practice her healing magic, something that up till now she'd had little care for, but many things had changed since then. Now she had a Witcher she was determined, more than ever, to keep in good health.

"Thank you, Yen." He said drearily, before closing his eyes to better indulge in her calming, warming magic.

"Well as you said before, we haven't worked this hard to find our peace only for the Lodge to ruin it, which is why I cannot allow my Witcher to fall apart."

As Yennefer worked her magic and Geralt sat there blissfully, Ciri cast a sideways look at Triss who was blushing and staring intently at Eskel as he was called up, yet the raven-haired sorceress did not cast her gaze upon her with a look of content, rather her face showed signs of concern perhaps even worry as she concentrated on what was at current most important to her.

"Yen, that's enough. Save your strength for when you're called." Geralt said after a while as his fellow brother made his way back over to the school passing Lambert, who was up next, as he walked to the platform.

"Stop fussing so much Geralt, I can manage. Besides, I imagine Philippa will have me going last, likely hoping this meeting will run well into the night, so stop worrying." She replied irritably her focus broken, but her face softened as Geralt gently pulled one of her hands from his shoulder and held it in his own, brushing his thumb affectionately over the back of her smooth hand.

"Please Yen." His medallion stopped vibrating.

"Very well." She remained silent as Geralt placed a kiss on the back of her hand, watching him carefully as he pulled his shirt back over his head and moved to sit down beside her, putting his leather chest piece next to his swords. Yennefer sat there, staring into the distance thoughtfully as Eskel discussed some of his recent contracts with Geralt and Ciri as they watched the third Witcher's fight, though not nearly as intensely as Keira who unlike last time was not able to save Lambert's skin if he needed it.

The audience now consisted of proportionally more students than members of the meeting to the point at which almost all the benches were full, minus the one containing the Lodge and the one on which Yennefer, Ciri, and Geralt sat, as the students stared at the latter with a mix of awe and fear, particularly the former as sparks practically shot from her eyes whenever she caught someone pointing in their direction which soon quelled them. While half the students watched the arena with great interest the other half seemed more interested in the various strangers sitting among them and a few of them had even been brave enough to talk with them as the voices of Hjalmar, Zoltan, Dandelion, and Ves carried across the seating.

"Ciri." Called out Philippa as the apparitions froze and reset.

"Good luck." Said Geralt to the young woman now getting to her feet as she adjusted the belt of her scabbard slung across her back unnecessarily.

"One more fight and you'll never have to look at these specters again. You'll do fine." Said Yennefer and Ciri nodded at the pair before heading towards the platform causing many heads to turn.

By the time the Lady of Space and Time had begun to fight all eyes were upon her, and the voices began to quiet down. While Ciri's swordsmanship, speed, and grace were enough to make anyone stop and gaze in wonder it was the rare flashes of blue light that caused the most kerfuffle as Ciri vanished in the blink of an eye, reappearing behind her assailant, cutting him down with deadly precision. But despite the ease with which she dealt with the Hunt she was evidently relieved when the battle ended and when she sat down Yennefer hugged her tightly, they didn't need to speak, Ciri's face burying itself in the sorceress' comforting locks spoke for her.

* * *

Yennefer hadn't been entirely correct, she was second to last. The moon had begun to rise, pushing the sun out of its throne in the sky as Geralt followed behind her carrying her magical apparatus as they descended to the bridge.

"Good luck." He said as he handed the equipment to the sorceress who smiled at him in thanks before departing over the bridge.

The Witcher leaned against the stone banister as he watched from the base of the stairs, on the small stage holding the two podiums and magical spheres. Once Yennefer had reached the middle of the platform she turned to face the school, planting the two magical staffs into the ground and a small blue sphere appeared around her as she began the spell. Her body seemed to struggle against the magic as she forced the barrier out, further and further still until it surrounded the entire school. Geralt saw her arms tremble as she tried to steady her heavy breathing.

"A very powerful and strong barrier." Said Ida to one of the other sorceresses. "And very dangerous, respectable spell-work indeed." The Witcher turned to the voices behind him.

"Dangerous? What do you mean?"

"I'm guessing that Yenna likely left that information out, didn't she?" Said Rita knowingly peering down at him. "Magic, Geralt, is chaos. There is always a risk when using it and that risk grows with the magnitude of the spell. Something like this, if not cast properly, well, I'll spare you the details. Phil, how long are you expecting her to hold this?" She turned her gaze to her fellow headmistress.

"Well, until she faints of course. Is that not how long she held it for last time? So that would be the most accurate means of getting the information we need." Said Eilhart indifferently glaring at the Witcher with malicious amusement. She either didn't notice, but most likely didn't care, about the glances from her fellow sisters who clearly thought she was being unreasonable, even when it came to a situation involving Yennefer.

"Not going to let that happen." Said Geralt coldly, taking a step towards her. "She cast the spell, you have the information you need. That's enough."

"Who are you to dictate what information I need?" Said Philippa rising to her feet, drawing herself up to her full formidable height like a bird of prey asserting its clear dominance. They stared at each other in silence, Geralt's predatory eyes full of undisguised animosity. "But fine, if only to get Yennefer's pet wolf to stop bothering us." Philippa replied sarcastically, staring at the Witcher for a few more seconds before calling an end to the spell and sending Triss on last.

"Didn't think to tell me it was dangerous." Geralt said gruffly as soon as Yennefer was back on the other side of the bridge. She cast an angry glare in the direction of the Lodge before turning to him.

"I didn't want to concern you Geralt, or Ciri for that matter. There was no other choice so what was the point in doing so?" Sincerity shone in her eyes as she gazed at him and he knew he couldn't be angry at her for it, despite wanting to. In a way, this affection was part of what he loved about her.

"Still, I'd rather know Yen." Their fingers brushed as he took the equipment from her, his eyes never leaving her.

"If there is ever a next time, I will endeavor to tell you Geralt, you have my word." He nodded in thanks. "Now come, let's… what on earth is she doing?"

Following her gaze to the arena is was clear that something was wrong, whatever Triss was doing wasn't what he'd witnessed at Kaer Morhen. Dark, heavy clouds hung in the darkening night sky like a swirling mass of smoke directly above the arena which a few seconds ago had been clear and cloudless. And the cloud was getting bigger.

"Triss what are you doing?" Shouted Philippa as she and the other members of the Lodge stared up at the ominous sight manifesting above them.

"That's not me!" She called back, her voice showing signs of panic. "I don't know what's going on."

"That's not supposed to happen." Said Eskel who had just come running down the stairs to join them as the crowd began to point and whisper fearfully at the stage. "Somebody stop it."

"We can't." Said Eilhart calmly glowering at him. "It's protected by a magical barrier, you can't teleport in or out and you can't cast spells over the barrier. Whatever's happening Triss had caused so she can solve it."

Eskel looked as though he was about to argue but his voice was drowned out by an almighty crack and a burst of blinding light. There was also a scream. Triss. A bolt of lightning shot down from the lingering mass above narrowly missing the sorceress as it struck the ground just in front of her, shattering the stone platform and sending her flying backward with its unnatural force. Before anyone could react there was another flash which struck one of the stone columns forcing Triss to roll aside towards the edge of the arena as the stones smashed into the ground she had been lying on a split second before. A third bolt shot down collapsing the edge of the platform and Triss screamed as the ground beneath her began to fall away and she disappeared over the edge.

"Shit!" screamed Yennefer as she began to run across the bridge almost slamming straight into Eskel who shot past the pair in a streak of red closely followed by Geralt and Yennefer. They raced across the bridge following Triss' cries as she hung onto the ledge for dear life, the sea beneath her churning with a sudden ferocity as though anticipating a new catch while lightning continued to rain down over the small area sending rocks hurtling towards the sorceress as the stone tiling, railing, and columns shattered under their touch.

Just as the trio was nearing the platform a bolt of lightning demolished a large segment of the bridge just ahead of them, stones tumbling into the dark depths bellow. Eskel, who was ahead of the others, threw himself across the gap just as the ground beneath him began to disappear and only just made it be the skin of his teeth as he grasped hold of the edge of the ruined bridge connected to the arena, hauling himself up and rushing towards Triss.

"Yen stop!" Geralt yelled as he desperately tried to halt himself as he watched his fellow Witcher only just make the dangerous leap which had now gotten wider. Arms flailing, he teetered dangerously on the edge and he felt fear begin to grip him before he felt Yennefer's hands under his arms as she pulled him backward causing them both to fall against the cold stones of the bridge. Geralt heard the sounds of crumbling rock as the bridge just behind them began to collapse.

"Run!" He yelled, hauling Yennefer to her feet and pushing her in front of him as they desperately raced back. Ciri and Keira, who has just begun to set foot on the bridge looked, for a brief moment, taken aback by their sudden change in course before they quickly stepped back as, along with the rest of the audience, they saw the edge of the bridge pursuing the Witcher and the sorceress as the stones just behind them collapsed and disappeared into the sea. The school watched on anxiously. Geralt could feel that the gap between them and their imminent descent was getting smaller, he didn't think they could outrun it.

"Jump!" He yelled just as the ground beneath him began to loosen as he pushed off hard using his hands and his own momentum to help propel Yennefer forwards. The Witcher managed to clear the gap as his chest slapped into the cliff face now freed from the bridge his hands clawing at the stone tiles as his legs dangled over the sea. After seeing that Ciri and Keira were helping Yennefer up, Geralt grasped the outstretched hands of Roche and Lambert who heaved him up.

"Yen, are you alright?" He asked moving up to her. She nodded and was about to say something when Keira screamed.

"Triss!" The group watched on helplessly as Eskel dived forwards reaching for the auburn-haired sorceress just as another flash of lightning struck the arena causing the edge to crumble away as Triss plummeted into the dark water below quickly disappearing from sight as the waves crashed around her. The Witcher picked himself up into a crouching position and dove into the sea after her also vanishing from sight.

They ran over to the edge of the cliff, peering over the stone railing hoping for a sign, anything. Geralt looked to see if he could dive in as well, but the base of the cliff as far as he could see was littered with jagged rocks, there wasn't anything he could do, cold and unpleasant helplessness washed over him. But Yennefer could, several orbs of light appeared around her before she directed them into the sea which had swallowed the others. The magic orbs descended to the sea floor and began to circle like fireflies around the sight of Eskel and Triss, her leg trapped beneath a pile of stones which had tumbled in after he. The Witcher was desperately trying to remove them one by one but was making slow progress.

"Keira helps him lift the stones," Yennefer called, her voice steady and calm as she directed the others. "Be prepared to teleport them when they reach the surface, focus in on my spell." They all nodded in unison and the group stepped away from the edge to make way for the sorceress.

Illuminated by Yennefer's light Geralt saw the rocks around Triss pulsate with blue magic before they gently glided away. Eskel grabbed her around the waist and began to slowly swim to the surface, his movements hindered by the churning waves. When the emerged, spluttering, the luminous orbs still fluttering around them they quickly disappeared in a flash of light just as a huge wave came crashing down.

They reappeared on the platform beside the two podiums along with a torrent of water which soaked the tiles beneath them. The Witcher held Triss in his arms as she coughed up seawater gently pulling the hair from her face and covering her body with his own as she began to shiver.

"Triss! Are you alright?" Asked Keira anxiously as she knelt beside her. She looked at her and nodded but said nothing, instead, she tried to bury herself in Eskel's warmth.

"What the hell happened Triss?" Asked Philippa irritably as she pushed her way through the group gathering around her. "What went wrong?"

"That wasn't me." She replied looking up at the woman looming over her.

"Phil you can't honestly believe Triss could have caused that do you." Said Rita, as she brushed past Eilhart and stood beside the figure huddled on the floor. "I've seen plenty of spells go wrong, but never like that."

"Well, what do you purpose happened, Rita?" There was silence, Yennefer and Geralt caught each other's eyes, as did Dandelion, Priscilla, and Zoltan. "I'll look into this tomorrow but for now. Everyone go back inside if I see one person come anywhere near the training area until I say otherwise you will be severely punished." The students didn't need asking twice as they quickly obeyed the headmistress and dispersed from the area, Rita and Philippa disappeared after them.

"Can you stand Triss?" Asked Eskel kindly, still holding onto Triss.

"Yes I think so, but help me please." With the aid of the Witcher, she slowly stood wobbling slightly on her left leg which had been brushed and cut by the rocks. She was still shivering. Without a word, Yennefer took Triss' shaking hands in her own and muttered a spell which caused warm light to envelop the sorceress body and her shivering to cease.

"Thank you, Yennefer." She replied graciously, wiping some of the water from her face.

"I'll help you to your room." Said Eskel, taking one of Triss' arms as she smiled thankfully at him allowing the Witcher to lead her away up the stairs leaving a trail of water behind them. The others stood in silence for a moment staring at the pair and at the ruined arena behind them, awe struck.

"That was close, too close." Said Ciri after a while. "If Eskel had been any slower…" Again, there was silence as the realization of her words sunk in, along with dread.

"Could this bloody week get any more dangerous." Said Zoltan, peering up at the sky which was once again calm, showing not a trace of what had just occurred. "The cave, the riot, then this. Somethings afoot."

"It's been a bad fucking week sure," said Lambert as he began to head for the stairs, "but so what? You think this is bad, try spending the week as a Witcher. It's been a shit week, but in this world, that doesn't mean a thing."

"I've got a bad feeling about this," said the dwarf quietly as most of the group departed, "I can feel it in my gut." None of the other commented they didn't want to believe it.

* * *

"Geralt, what's troubling you?" Asked Yennefer as she lay her head on the Witcher's chest, lightly tracing her fingers over his scars as he pulled the covers over them before wrapping his arms protectively around her waist.

"I can't shake off what Zoltan said." He answered after a brief pause. "I feel like somethings coming Yen, somethings coming for us. I don't know what but I fear it, I fear for you and for Ciri." He gently took one of her hands in his as he spoke, absentmindedly entwining their fingers together.

"Well, whatever it is, we will face it together as we always have. I shall not allow myself to be taken from you easily my love. I can promise you that."

"I love you, Yen."

Despite all the drama the sorceress quickly drifted off to sleep, her hand still wrapped around his. But Geralt found himself awake well into the next day, still distressed by the things he did not wish to burden his raven-haired beauty with. That storm could quite easily have been her, but there was something else that kept him awake, the fragments of a nightmare lodged in deep memory which seemed to evoke a sense of dread in him, it seemed so familiar yet distant to him. It bothered him because he couldn't understand its meaning or its promise. After tonight, he had almost completed it, only two remained.

* * *

Baudelaire - _Journaux intimes:_ **Chapter 7, The Mages**

"the supreme and unique pleasure of love is the certainty that one is doing evil"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys! Hope you enjoyed the latest installment, things just keep going from bad to worse, don't they? I hope you enjoyed my Yennefer, Triss and Fringilla discussion, I wasn't really sure how to pull it off but I gave it my best shot!
> 
> On the exam front this time tomorrow I'll finally be free! The end is in sight.
> 
> Also I've updated past chapters, mostly grammar and spelling but a few extra phrases here and there, I feel that this story is very much progressing along with my skills.
> 
> As always feel free to PM me your thoughts or leave a comment, I love hearing from you. My thanks to vic-of-thor (Tumblr) for all the kind words and support and to korbel05 (fanfiction) for all the feedback and suggestions.
> 
> Until next time guys, have a great week – Eileniessa


	8. Mages

Warnings:

**Contains spoilers for the Witcher 3 Wild Hunt and The Sword of Destiny**

* * *

_Journaux intimes_  – Baudelaire

"the supreme and unique pleasure of love is the certainty that one is doing evil"

* * *

"How are you feeling Triss?" Asked Ciri as the Sorceress walked into the hall and sat at the table with the others, Eskel following closely behind her.

"Much better, thank you." She replied, forcing a smile she hoped at least seemed natural, if not very sincere. Geralt hadn't been kept awake last night by just his worries, but by the sounds of screaming and panic. He knew what he heard, both he and Yennefer were regrettably well acquainted with the sounds of nightmares and the dreaded look of weariness and concern, something Eskel was currently showing. Geralt was sure no one slept in his room last night.

As the group ate their breakfast, checking in on Triss and discussing what this final day of the meeting would have in store for them, Rita entered, alone

"Given what happened yesterday, the Lodge is postponing the final meeting until this evening as we wish to assess the arena." Said Rita to the assembled group. "You are free to spend the day as you wish until then, but be aware that mages will be arriving in the masses today, for the gathering. We will call you from the living area when it is time." As she departed the others began to talk among themselves, unsure of what to do with this unanticipated opportunity.

"Feel like some training Ciri?" Asked Geralt as he peered at the sunny weather outside then to the young woman fidgeting in her seat opposite him.

"Yes please." She answered immediately, smiling happily at him. "It's been too long since I've properly practiced."

"We can ride out of the city today," offered Yennefer, her head of raven shimmering in the morning light, "head down to the coast, put as much distance between us and the Lodge if we can, if only for a moment."

"Sounds like a plan."

* * *

They set off soon after breakfast accompanied by Zoltan, Dandelion, Priscilla, Eskel, and Cerys. After a short ride along the cliffs, they found a picturesque cove secluded from the sight of the port and from the harsh sea air. The others sat amongst the rocks as Ciri and Geralt trained in the sand, just as they had done at Kaer Morhen all those years ago, occasionally joined by the other Witcher. Yennefer watched on as she spoke to the Queen of Skellige, offering the younger woman her ear and her wisdom which was graciously accepted. Dandelion and Priscilla were comparing their ballads and poems from the meetings events, the sound of their voices and beautiful music comforting and relaxing the others as they sat together and enjoyed the food they had purchased from the market as they passed through, sweet fruit, soft cheeses and bread still warm from the fire.

"So, how many of you are staying for the gathering?" Asked Ciri, looking around the group as she wiped the juice from her chin with the back of her hand causing Yennefer to scowl at her.

"We most certainly are." Answered Dandelion, gesturing towards himself and Priscilla and puffing up like a peacock. "And we intend to play there, how many others can say they've had that honour. Besides, what better way to celebrate Priscilla's health."

"In no small part thanks to you, Yennefer." Said the other bard, smiling at the sorceress with genuine affection. "I'll be sure to put my voice to good use at the banquet, singing your praises."

"Will you to be staying?" Asked Zoltan, looking between Geralt and Yennefer. "Or, will you be getting out of the Lodge's reach as soon as you can."

"We will stay on." Replied Yennefer taking the opened bottle of wine from Geralt and chilling it with her touch. "Though I have no interest in reconnecting with politics or magical studies. I am interested in seeing who has survived the Witch Hunts and of course, we cannot deny ourselves more time with Ciri." The young woman smiled at them in response.

"I can't imagine Eilhart will be pleased about that." Pondered the Dwarf, rubbing his beard. "But then again, I can't imagine she finds anything pleasing."

"There's always something she finds to complain about," nodded Ciri, "nothing's ever the way she likes it. She is most certainly the most irritating and sour-faced tutor I've ever had, and that's saying something." She let out a shout as Geralt and Yennefer simultaneously kicked sand in her face.

"You can talk, I remember when I first found you in the forest of Brokilon, you were a right little princess back then." Said the Witcher tauntingly as he passed a goblet of wine to her.

"Hey, no fair!" She replied in mock anger, crossing her arms over her chest like a sulking child.

"She used to walk around Kaer Morhen with her head held so high in the air you'd think she was looking at the clouds." Said Eskel as the group laughed at Ciri's expense.

"Where was that sense of humour when we were training." Said the young woman, pointing accusingly at the two Witchers. "You all seemed as gloomy and pessimistic as Lambert when I first met you, frightfully boring. And you," she turned on Yennefer who was smiling at Geralt, "were very intimidating."

"Well, I always try to make a strong first impression." She replied trying to keep a straight face, her melodic voice giving away her amusement. "But the way you used to demand that I take you to Vengerberg with me to get supplies, when you were supposed to be hiding in Ellander, made me concerned that I was losing my charm, or that Nenneke was beginning to rub off on me."

"I remember, you used to complain about all the preparations you'd have to make before we could even start the ride, to cover our tracks."

"Yes, those spells took a great deal of time, but as always you were annoyingly persistent, despite my best efforts to dissuade you. I could never get any peace until I agreed." She looked towards the two Witchers for support who nodded almost sympathetically.

"That's because the more you trained me the less frightening you became, so why wouldn't I try to get my way? I find it funny to think how afraid of you I was at first. So, here's to Geralt and Eksel, the grumpy Witchers with a sense of humour and to Yennefer the petrifying sorceress with a soft spot for Trolls and vagabonds like Geralt and I!"

"Hang on, you're not getting out of it that easily!" Shouted Geralt as Ciri raised her glass. "And to Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon, the foul, over-grown, arrogant Princess with some good old common decency."

"Here, here!" Yelled Zoltan as they raised their glasses to the toast and enjoyed the wine from Corvo Bianco's vineyards, imbued with Sorceress' magic to give it that little something extra for such a special and merry occasion. As the group drank Yennefer looked at Geralt and he saw her violet eyes shining warmly before his senses became engulfed with her scent as she leaned in to kiss him, the taste of the wine still lingering on her lips. Once upon a time, Geralt would have been surprised by such a public display of affection, but over the years the raven-haired sorceress had become a lot more open with her sensitive side outside of locked doors, one small step at a time. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw their Witcheress smiling broadly, clearly pleased with the effect of her efforts, remarkably like Yennefer at the tower.

They sat there talking well into the afternoon, exchanging light-hearted tales mostly at someone else's expense. Yennefer smiled mercilessly at Geralt as she told the group about his 'Trial of the Taxidermy' during the Wake on Skellige, and while the others were busy laughing he whispered in her ear.

"Speaking of Skellige Yen, that reminds me of something Crach said, about you and a fishing net." Geralt was sure he heard her groan ever so briefly at the memory of her flight from Montecalvo. "That's an interesting story."

"What do you want, Witcher?" she whispered back suspiciously, eyebrows raised as she turned to him, raven locks tumbling down her face obscuring her expression from the others as they continued laughing among themselves.

"Depends, what's this memory worth to you Yen?" He replied, lips curved into a playful smile as he let his suggestion hang in the sea air.

"Hmmm, promise not to tell and I'll make it up to you later." She answered after a brief while in a mischievous whisper, eyes gazing intensely at him beckoning him closer but before their lips touched she softly spoke in Geralt's ear. "Or, I won't tell Lambert about the Wake, your choice." The Witcher chuckled as Yennefer slowly pulled away from him.

"That's not a fair deal. What could I ever have done to deserve that?"

"Blackmail Geralt, is a dangerous game," she replied smiling innocently at him, but with eyes blazing with deviltry, "especially when I have so much more on you than you'll ever have on me." He wanted to argue back, but he faltered holding his arms up in mock surrender as she looked at him triumphantly, happy to have retained the upper hand, as always.

* * *

It was almost evening when the group arrived back in Thanedd and by then the Isle was bustling with various sorcerers and sorceress settling into their accommodation in Loxia, where the others were currently situated, and catching up with their colleagues. As usual, the mages looked remarkedly made up, adorned with jewels and luxurious fabrics which acted as a lodestone for the eyes of passers-by

"I feel somewhat underdressed." Said Ciri as they walked through the school, unconsciously trying to smooth out her ruffled hair.

"I suggest we all go and freshen up before heading to the common room." Said Yennefer, looking between their sand coated clothing.

"You look beautiful as always Yen." Said Geralt with his unique charm, she didn't say anything but smiled at him warmly, answering sentiment with the sentiment.

"I'll go with you Ciri, I have something to discuss with you and I dare say the topic will bore our Witcher. Geralt, we'll meet you in the common room." The two women disappeared as the Witcher entered their room, there was already clean clothing lain out on the bed for him, they smelled of lilac and gooseberries.

* * *

The moonlight cast through the open door splintered on the various buckles and gems adorned by the lady and lord magicians parading around the lounge boastingly in their finery. When Geralt entered the room was full to the brim with what seemed to be all the colours of the rainbow and more. He pushed his way through the crowd which seemed to be taking little notice of him, much to his pleasure, as he made his way towards Roche who moved over on the sofa to make room for him. As soon as he sat down Philippa swooped down on him.

"Where's Yennefer?" She demanded, looking down at him with her hands on her hips. "We're to begin any minute now, go and get her."

"She's coming, Philippa," He replied calmly, "she's waiting for Ciri to change, they won't be long." She continued to look at him in a calculating manner before smiling at him spitefully.

"I'm surprised at you Witcher, letting your Sorceress out of your sight, given the circumstance, I'd almost think you didn't care about her well-being in the slightest." Geralt hesitated for a second, he knew she was trying to bait him but the sense of dread he felt last night still hadn't fled, so he had to bite.

"What are you talking about?" He asked gruffly, waving his hands in a broad, irritated gesture. Eilhart continued to stare down at him, smiling malevolently.

"I would have thought that was obvious Witcher, you clearly are very unconcerned for her if you don't consider him a threat." She answered in a patronizing manner.

"Who Philippa?" His voice beginning to rise turning more heads in his direction.

"Phil stop," said Triss, getting to her feet and turning to him, he was surprised by the look of fear he saw in her eyes "Istredd, Geralt. Istredd is here and he's looking for Yenna." His fists clenched involuntarily at the name which dangerously provoked the coals of glowing hatred buried inside of him clouding his mind with smoke.

"You forgot the best bit Triss." Said Philippa vauntingly, her eyes never leaving the Witcher. "Istredd went mad."

* * *

A pair of razor sharp eyes, as black as obsidian, followed her movements through the window as sat on the bed conversing with a second woman, she was unimportant, before rearranging her own shimmering locks, eyes glimmering in the mirror's reflection like crystals. It watched very closely, too closely. It was unnatural. The bird took flight as they approached the door, careful not to be seen or heard, to not give the game away.

The light of the stars was just beginning to fill the empty void in the night sky left by the sun's departure as Yennefer and Ciri made their way to the common room, hair rustling in the light breeze which tickled their exposed skin. The Enchantress listened attentively to the young woman's most recent mishaps and misdemeanors at court making light of it, inducing giggles in the pair.

It followed her, gliding from one rooftop to the next, claws clattering and scraping against the stone tiles and as she began to near his door the Kestrel croaked loudly, a warning heard only by his master who was waiting with mounting anticipation, bordering on obsession. But he no longer had to contain himself.

They didn't think anything of it when a door to their left just ahead swung open sending warm light from burning torches spilling out as the shadow of figure danced and flickered on the stone floor.

"Yenna, my dear." It was as though she'd hit a stone wall as the Sorceress let out a small gasp as she suddenly stopped, rooted to the spot as the man watched her intensely with his deep grey eyes framed by his dark shoulder length hair which brushed against the top of his light grey robes. He looked to be in his early forties and had the look of wisdom and prestige accomplished only with age, but it wasn't intelligence that shone in his eyes now, but something basic, primitive, Ciri didn't understand it, but she wasn't sure she wanted to.

"Val." Said Yennefer in greeting as she quickly composed herself, but Ciri heard the quiver in her voice, saw her smile falter as she looked at him as the warmth in her eyes was replaced with silent panic to which he was either ignorant or uncaring as he approached embracing her and lingering far longer than needed his hands gripping her shoulders tightly. Ciri felt her throat tighten, she remembered how she knew that name and the Enchantress' apprehension became clear.

"Yenna, how good it is to see you again." He said, eyes fixed constantly on Yennefer like a bird of prey as she managed to take a step back. "Please, come inside, we have a great deal of catching up to do." He didn't seem to expect a response taking the Sorceress by surprise as he grabbed her by the wrist and began to pull her through the open door. Ciri instinctively took a step forward, standing in front of the door and Istredd looked as though he was only just seeing her for the first time. His smile faded and his eyes narrowed evidently annoyed at being interrupted. Yennefer pulled herself loose and quickly stood between the pair.

"Val, we need to talk, wait for me inside, I won't be long." He nodded reluctantly smiling once again as he turned to her.

"Of course, but please don't be long." He said casually, but Ciri sensed something threatening in his manner as he brushed passed her into the room. Yennefer stepped away from the door and sighed, placing a hand on her forehead.

"You can't be serious?" Said the young woman in quiet disbelief as she moved over to the Enchantress who didn't look back at her instead she stared off into the sea fiddling with the obsidian star pinned to the velvet ribbon hugging her slender neck, it sparkled slightly on the moonlight. She was silent. "Let's go, now…I have a bad feeling about this." Yennefer sighed.

"And you're probably right, but I must, this cannot be postponed any longer." Her voice was dejected, her violet eyes usually so full of life seemed drained of colour, it made Ciri nervous.

"Then I'm coming with you." Yennefer turned to her, holding her gently by the shoulders with a look of cold determination.

"No, Ciri, this is my albatross, my mistake, and I will pay the price for that alone, you are not to intervene and I am relying on you to compel Geralt to do them same, I will not allow you to be drawn into the mess I have created. I need set things straight and know that I do it for you and for our Witcher, so leave me." She lowered her arms and slowly began to walk through the open door.

"Mother, please." She pleaded staring after the Sorceress' raven hair. She paused but did not turn as she muttered something indistinctly.

"Go, my child. I will join you soon, all will be made right. Please, trust me." The door slammed shut as the darkness fell like a shroud around her. Nothing Yennefer said could have diminished the fear churning inCiri's stomach like boiling water as she watched the flickering light in the window, conflicted. She trusted Yennefer, but she also trusted her own judgment. After a few seconds, she reluctantly she began to walk away. She should have trusted her instincts because Yennefer had made a serious misjudgment.

* * *

As soon as she stepped over the threshold the door closed behind her making her flinch involuntarily as she turned towards the sound of footsteps behind her.

"Val th-"her voice was silenced by a pair of lips which greedily searched for her own kissing her ravenously, slating his irremediable appetite, utterly nescient to her protests as she tried to pull away, but his hands were fastened securely around her arms forcing her closer the warmth of his body and his touch mingled with her own. Yennefer put her hands on his chest trying to force him back, but he was stronger, his grip tightened painfully.

A metallic taste lingered on her mouth as she desperately bit his lip drawing blood, trying to make him pull away but to her astonishment, and revulsion, Istredd didn't move back nor did he relinquish his grip, instead he simply raised his head to look down at her as his smile broadened into a wild, devilish grin devoid of its usual calm seduction and charm as he licked the blood from his lips while his eyes once full of wisdom burned with primitive instinct, with base desire, and atavistic longing. She felt sick.

"Oh, how I've missed you, your fire." His rapacious voice filled her mind as he kissed her again barely giving her a seconds pause, pushing her up against the wall, his body pressed against her and she could feel the stones scraping against her back as she shuddered under his touch. Her eyes flared fiercely. She dug her sharp nails into the exposed skin on the back of his hands creating deep scratches which oozed blood as she scraped the back of his hands from his knuckles to his wrists.

"Val, get off!" She screamed vehemently as he pulled back in surprise and bewilderment his grip loosening giving the sorceress a chance to struggle out of his clutch and push him back with such strength he staggered. Yennefer wiped his blood from her lips and Istredd chuckled, it seemed sinister.

"My love, stop teasing me, let us end our perennial longing." The mage took a step towards her but Yennefer was quicker, gracefully darting past him and out of reach and away from the cold stone. She comported herself menacingly.

"No, for God sakes Val! You shall keep your hands to yourself or risk losing them, I want to talk!" She snarled at him, and this time he did not move and his smile wavered.

"What has gotten into to you, Yenna? Were we not reacquainting perfectly well as we were." His hands twitched impatiently by his sides, only the sorceress' icy glare kept him back.

"I'm not here to reacquaint, but to set things straight." Apprehension and guilt once again began to overwhelm her senses, but it was dampened by her escalating fury, raven locks cascading around her as turbulent as a storm.

"What are you talking about?"

"Many things have changed Val," she said slowly, trying to control her seething anger, "I'm no longer the woman you proposed to all those years ago, I cannot do this. I've moved on with my life and have no intention of looking back, I urge you to do the same."

There was silence as the two mages looked at each other from across the room. Yennefer tried to read his features but they seemed blank, unfamiliar to her, as though his mind was elsewhere. She shouldn't have let his silence fool her.

"What has that mutant done to you?" He growled angrily through barred teeth and she cursed herself for not shielding her thoughts more carefully. "I shall tip the scales making him pay for this."

"You will not lay a finger on him, do you understand?" She screamed, drawing herself up and striding over to him until they were so close he could see the sparks dancing in her eyes like lightning. "If you think my past affections will protect you from my fury then you're even more blind than I could ever have believed possible because I promise you that the rage you shall experience will be unlike anything you've experienced or could even imagine. Don't you dare think for a moment that you can charm your way out of it!"

The air around them throbbed from the magic which burned on their fingers tips, unconsciously awoken by their animosity which hung in the air like a dense, portentous cloud foreshadowing the approaching storm. The air crackled. Yennefer was aware of the tension surrounding them, she was wrong not to fear it.

* * *

_The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde_  - Robert Louis Stevenson (1886):  **Chapter 8: Mistakes**

"the lower side of me, so long indulged, so recently chained down, began to growl for licence… I sat in the sun on a bench; the animal within me licking the chops of memory; the spiritual side a little drowsed… the hand that lay on my knee was corded and hairy. I was once more Edward Hyde."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm freeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee! Exams are over, I have my life back at long last, summer here I come! It was a long road but I survived, go me.
> 
> Hi guys, hope you enjoyed the chapter, some more special family moments to balance out the chaos and destruction, see, I'm not all doom and gloom. Again, I've tried to tackle another tricky confrontation, that of Yennefer and Istredd, fingers crossed that you liked it because I'm really bashful so this was actually quite difficult for me, more difficult than writing fluff (I'm 18 but I blush whenever a write 'kiss' or 'caress' etc, why…)
> 
> As always feel free to PM me your thoughts or leave a comment, I love hearing from you. My thanks to vic-of-thor (Tumblr) for all the kind words and support and to korbel05 (fanfiction ) for all the feedback and suggestions.
> 
> Until next time guys, have a great week – Eileniessa


	9. Mistakes

Warnings:

 **Contains spoilers for the Witcher 3 Wild Hunt and** **_The Sword of Destiny_ **

* * *

_The Strange Case of Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde_  - Robert Louis Stevenson (1886)

"the lower side of me, so long indulged, so recently chained down, began to growl for licence… I sat in the sun on a bench; the animal within me licking the chops of memory; the spiritual side a little drowsed… the hand that lay on my knee was corded and hairy. I was once more Edward Hyde."

* * *

It was eerily calm, the Enchantress felt a shiver tingling down her back as she stood face to face with Istredd, the abnormal peace was making her nervous. But it didn't last long. It took all her self-control not to jump with a start as the magician darted to the side, silently grabbing a nearby chair and throwing it against the wall with such strength than it shattered against the stone sending splinters flying. When he looked back at her his handsome face was grotesquely deformed by a sadistic smile, his eyes searing with uncontrollable madness, wild and dangerous. Chaotic. Yennefer let out a gasp.

"You would choose that freak!" He bellowed, hurling another chair across the room which soared past the enchantress still riveted to the spot, absolutely overcome with shock. She felt she was watching a stranger. "I should never have let you get away from me, to let this become of you! To leave you so long at the mercy of that monster! I wasn't fast enough to stop him!"

"Monster?" She contorted incredulously, her eyes like piercing daggers in Istredd's back as he vagariously knocked a pile of books off the dresser, their content spilling over the floor. "How dare you utter that word! You, who forced yourself upon me, who catastrophically failed to understand by decision, who has been be overcome by primitive rage simply because your desire has been denied!" Several of the draws flew out from the dresser splintering on the opposite side of the room, narrowly missing her as the mage swung his arms around recklessly, fingers pulsating with magic.

"How can I accept what he has done to you?!" Water splattered against the stone as the basin clattered against the floor. "You are innocent to his corruption, his abuse, to the suffering he inflicts. But I will set you free now I have found you again, at last. It is I who needs to set things right!" He swung his arms again, the trunk lying at the foot of the bed right by the sorceress' feet violently burst open scattering bundles of clothing and parchment across the room. Istredd began to kick several piles of cloth until there was a faint clattering, the sound of steel scraping against stone. The sword flashed in the light from the torches as he pulled it loose from its scabbard, his own grey eyes gleaming coldly as he turned towards the door.

"Val, No!" She grabbed him by the arm, holding him back and was caught completely off-guard.

* * *

Roche felt Geralt tense up beside him as Philippa's words cut through the silence now encompassing the common room as the lady and lord magicians listened in curiously.

"Triss." Said the Witcher turning to the auburn-haired Sorceress, she nodded at this unspoken question, confirming Eilhart's words.

"But, but it's only a rumour Geralt. I'm sure Yennas fine." He sincerely doubted her optimism, she looked like she was trying to convince herself, but fear still tugged at the corner of her lips. The headmistress laughed.

"Don't be daft Triss, you're no doubt hoping Istredd will take care of your problem, but let's not be cruel to the Witcher. We should warn him about Istredd, how the man was raving indistinctly about his love, eyes bulging with wild lust. You better be quick Witcher, I imagine he's dragged Yennefer half way across Gors Velen by now, with or without her consent."

Geralt was on his feet in a flash, he didn't care if he was giving into Philippa's provocation because he was fearful that there was truth in what she said as several of the mages began to talk in hushed, frightful whispers. His sensitive hearing seemed to pick up the worst of the rumours. It was at that precise moment that Ciri walked in the door startling several of the occupancies of the room as a draft of cold air followed behind her ominously. The first thing he noticed, was that she was alone.

"Ciri, where's Yen?" He asked, pushing his way towards her, Triss following close behind.

"Geralt we need to talk, but not here." She replied, so wound up in her own thoughts she failed to notice the panic lining his words.

"Where's Yen?" He said again, jerking her out of her trance as she peered up into his narrowed, alert eyes. It signalled danger.

"Loxia. She's talking to someone, to Istredd. Geralt wait!" She said, tugging the Witcher's arm as he tried to move around her. "I don't like it either, but Yennefer doesn't want to draw us into this, we need to trust her."

"He's gone mad." He replied curtly turning to her, Ciri released his arm as she cursed her fists balling up in anger.

"What happened?" Asked Triss with concern, approaching her and placing what she hoped was a comforting hand on her shoulder.

"Shit! I should never have left her, the way he was looking at Yennefer." She began to run for the door and the mages parted for her as the three figures cut their way through the crowd.

* * *

Istredd whirled around to look at her his face contorted with delusion and frenzy, it was as though he didn't recognise her, senses drowned in corybantic fury the back of his hand hit Yennefer across the side of her face so hard it sent her to the ground and she almost smashed her head against the tiles catching herself only at the last possible moment. She let out an involuntary cry of pain.

"No! Yenna!" He shouted, the sword clattering to the ground as he ran to her side but he never reached her.

There was the sound of shattering glass as an invisible force picked Istredd off his feet and flung him against the wall over the dresser into the mirror before he rolled to the floor with a thud. Magic crackled on Yennefer's fingertips as she got to her feet dropping the hand which has been covering the side of the face which was red and sore and glaring at the mage with ineffable ferocity, violet eyes digging into his very soul with their look of pure and utter contempt. She was right, he could never have imagined such rage.

"Yenna, I'm sorr-" Istredd felt a crushing weight forcing him down as he tried to rise, his body went limp and rigid under her spell as blue energy surged around him holding him against the floor mercilessly as he stared up at the ceiling.

"How does it feel,  _Istredd_ ," she said in a voice so cold and unnatural Istredd felt himself chilled to the bone, his burning passion filled with drenching regret, and fear, "to be held back against your will?" she took a step closer. "To be forced up against the stones by someone?" then another. "To feel their strength overwhelming you as you hopelessly struggle?" She was looming over him, hands burning with power. "How does it feel to suffer under someone else's touch?" He let out a scream as she twisted her hand and blinding pain pulsated in his hands and lips, but only for a split second. "Never again,  _Istredd_. Next time you won't be so fortunate." She slammed the door behind her, leaving the mage still trapped under the spell alone with his own misery.

* * *

The cold air did nothing to calm Yennefer's anger as she stormed out of Istredd's room, uncaring of the direction her feet were taking her as long as it was as far away from him as possible. Her cheek stung in the breeze. She never expected it to go well, but she wasn't prepared for that, even now it was hard for her to believe how much she'd misjudged him, his lust. It could well have been her undoing. She was still burning with barely contained fury, but as always, she had to compose herself.

She quickly entered her room, lighting a single candle on the dresser by the mirror and examined her face, she let out a small gasp.  _Shit,_ she thought. Her right cheek just beside her eye was still throbbing painfully and was a light crimson, she touched it tentatively but recoiled hissing in pain, evidently, it was going to bruise. She cursed. Yennefer didn't have time to conceal it, the longer she took the greater the risk that someone would walk into the scene she left behind. Hastily she rearranged her hair so that it covered the mark on her face, her curly locks were so wild that her hair was often styled differently and was unlikely to draw attention.

 _After the meeting, I'll speak to Rita, the school must have something for hiding bruises_ Yennefer thought as she extinguished the light and left for the common room, careful not to disturb her hair. She tried to quell the apprehension bubbling inside of her as she reached for the handle,  _they can't know_. The enchantress comported herself confidently as she entered, adopting a mask of indifference to hide the distress which was still suffocating her.

* * *

The door swung open several feet ahead of them as a figure strode gracefully into the room, clad in black and white, raven locks tumbling down her shoulders and face.

"Yen!" Cried Geralt, as he reached her in three powerful strides briefly holding her out at arm's length inspecting her with his observant amber eyes, before embracing her. Yennefer let out a silent sigh of relief which quickly turned into a cry as she bit her tongue to stop the sound of pain escaping her delicate lips as the Witcher's chest pressed against the side of the face.

"Geralt, what are you fussing about now? You know I've only been out of your sight for less than an hour?" She said mockingly, crossing her arms over her chest as she looked at him and Ciri smiling.

"What happened?" Demanded Ciri anxiously, watching her as closely as Geralt, as was the rest of the room, their curiosity overcoming the fear induced by those piercing violet eyes.

"We talked, now why are you looking at me like that?"

"Yenna we were worried," said Triss who was standing slightly back, she felt it was still better to keep her distance from him, "we didn't know what he'd do." Yennefer turned to her, measuring her up, but not unkindly.

"Well, he's certainly not the man I knew, but your fear is misplaced, I can look after myself, as I have to keep reminding Geralt. The matters dealt with, if he troubles us again I will be sure to keep my promises and he'll regret ever laying eyes on me again. Now, let's sit down."

They began to walk back through the parted crowd still watching them with unbashful intrigue, gossiping between themselves. But as Yennefer tried to follow Triss and Ciri she was stopped by a warm hand wrapped around hers as Geralt gently held her back, walking to her right, his eyes lingering on her face fearfully.

"Yen, look at me."  _Shit_.

"Geralt I-"

"Yen." His voice was low and soft, pleading, Yennefer lowered her gaze to the floor unable to bare the concern flooding his features.

His coarse hand tenderly cupped the other cheek guiding her face to his, their eyes met as Geralt's free hand brushed away the hair covering her face, her bruised cheek practically seemed to glow in the light. Triss gasped, Ciri bristled like a cat but the Witcher seemed unnaturally calm as he lightly brushed his fingers over the red mark, but Yennefer saw his eyes narrow dangerously becoming sharp and alert, his muscles flexed and his jaw tightened as he tried to suppress his escalating rage.

"Where is he?" Said Geralt without taking his eyes off her cheek, still holding her head in his hands.

"Geralt, it doesn't matter, I made Istredd pay for what he did, just as I have paid for my mistake, forget about it, please Geralt." The touch of her smooth skin against the back of his hand momentarily calmed his anger as she held it, lowering them slowly from her face. But that quickly changed.

Yet again the door burst open as Istredd staggered into the room, wheezing from the effort, clutching his sides in pain he looked at the enchantress and opened his mouth. Searing hatred coursed through Geralt's veins like fire, its smoke clouding his mind and his senses as though the devil possessed his soul. He instinctively pushed Yennefer behind him and away from the mage before she could realise what was happening and in a flurry of movement he grabbed the man by the collar and smashed him against the stone wall just beside the entrance before he'd uttered a word. The heat from the Witcher's face burnt Istredd's skin as he tried to pull out of his steel grip, his feet barely touching the ground as Geralt had him pinned against the wall. How the tables had turned.

"Come near her again," he growled, his sharp eyes penetrating the man's very essence as though searching for any signs of humanity, "and you're a dead man." He snarled at him for a few seconds more before releasing him as Istredd collapsed into a heap on the floor, sputtering. Geralt took a step back, standing right in front of Yennefer who was trying to place herself between the two and preventing her from walking around him. The Magician took advantage of this distraction.

"Mutant!" He shouted as green tendrils of fire shot from his hands wrapping themselves around the Witcher's body like snakes pinning his arms and legs as he toppled over grunting in pain, there was a distinct smell of burnt flesh. "It is you who needs to pay for her suffering."

"Geralt!" Cried two voices together as Yennefer ran over to him, kneeling beside him frantically muttering and gesturing erratically with her fingers as she tried to undo the spell while Ciri pounced on Istredd making use of her fists in the absence of her swallow, striking him across the face sending him staggering into the door, a hand to his bloody nose, but he already had another spell on his fingertips.

"Move aside." He yelled as a gust of wind pushed the young woman sideways. Purple lightning hit Istredd right in the chest before Ciri had even hit the ground and his body slammed into the door which came right off its hinges along with part of the wall sending a shower of dust over him.

"You've gone too far Istredd!" Her violet eyes were as turbulent as the storm crackling on her fingertips as she stood between him and the others, an immovable guardian angel of destruction and chaos. "If I ever see you again or even hear from you, and if you ever go near my daughter or Geralt again I will kill you, without hesitation or regret." Her voice was calm and controlled as she descended from rage into something even further beyond that, something uncanny, Istredd felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on edge under her icy tone.

"Yenna, I, I wanted, to apologise." He wheezed, as he sat on the ground blood dripping down his face. "I never meant-"

"Don't waste your breathe. Forgiveness is impossible because I'm not capable of forgetting how I've been wronged." Her hair and skirt rustled in the wind blowing through the hole in the wall as though her whole body was alive with power.

"Yet, yet here you are, with that, that thing." He gestured to the Witcher still lying on the floor behind her, his eyes still narrowed at him threateningly, daring him to try something again. "How many times, has he hurt you, but, but still you return, falling into his, embraces, to be hurt again. I came only, to apologise but he, he attacked me, and you defend him. Yet I am punished, and threatened because, because I dared to, to fight back for you."

"No! Geralt has never hurt me on purpose while you did in your blind anger. Geralt fought because he was defending me while you did so for your own selfish gain. And Geralt can earn my forgiveness because he deserves it and because I love him." Istredd was still. "You should count yourself lucky that we met in Thanedd Istredd because it is that fact alone which is keeping you alive. Anywhere else, and you'd be a festering corpse left for the birds to pick at. Leave, now, and don't ever look back. There's nothing there for you anymore."

Nothing but the sounds of the sea and the sparks dancing from Yennefer's eyes broke the silence as she glowered at the mage kneeling on the floor before her, his eyes full of pity, disgust, pain and fire. After a few seconds, Istredd cursed.

"I should never have let you get away from me." He got to his feet and began to stagger away, two mages coming over to him supporting him under the arms and practically carrying him away from the scene as though dreading that the Sorceress would make true to her word. As soon as his back was to her, Yennefer ran to Geralt who was sitting on the floor probed up against the back of a sofa with Ciri and Triss kneeling beside him, the latter using her magic to soothe the rope burns marking his skin.

"Yen…"

"Shhhh, Geralt." Said Yennefer softly as he tried to turn to her, but she gently placed a hand on his chest to keep him still. "How is he?" She asked the other Sorceress as the Witcher placed his hand over hers.

"The burns are only small. I've helped with the pain, the skin just needs to heal now." She nodded in thanks, turning her eyes back to him.

"Yen, I'm fine." He said smiling at her but she was avoiding his gaze.

"Good. Then let's go, I'd like this day to end." He nodded and got to his feet grimacing slightly, his muscles still stiff. Ciri walked them back to their room, and the sounds of Philippa's furious screams followed them all the way. Due to recent events, the meeting would have to be postponed. Again. The wall also needed to be fixed.

* * *

They changed in silence as Yennefer continued to avoid his gaze and he waited patiently. He sat on the bed and pulled off his shirt as she checked his burns, after a while, he noticed that she was shaking.

"Yen." She crumbled under his voice, finally turning her eyes to him, they were shining with sadness.

"Geralt, I'm… I'm sorry." She said in barely a whisper, her lips quivering.

He pulled her onto the bed beside him, wrapping his strong arms around her lovingly, rocking her back and forth slowly as she buried herself in his chest trying to calm herself with the sound of his presence. He kissed the top of her head and gently stroked her arms and hair, he tried to comfort her as the energy and anger fled from her body leaving her drained and weary as she faced the pain so long held at bay. She drowned her sorrow in his touch. They sat like that for a long time until Yennefer was ready to speak.

"I made a mistake," she said, pulling back slightly so she could look at him, but without leaving his reassuring embrace, "I'm sorry you and Ciri were dragged into it. It should have been my burden alone."

"No, Yen. Whatever hardship you face we share together, always." Her cold despair seemed to melt under his warm gaze and affectionate words and he placed a tender kiss on her bruised cheek indulging in her rich scent.

"Geralt, I love you. Thank you."

They fell asleep under each other's touch, but the Sorceress did not sleep peacefully as she awoke screaming in the middle of the night and flinched under his touch as he gently tried to hold her down as she thrashed around dangerously in a blind panic. It took her several moments before she realised that it was Geralt and not another who held her and her fear slowly began to ebb away as he softly kissed and caressed the marks left behind on her face, arms and lips as though trying to wash the memories of his touch away. Eventually, sleep was able to claim her again and he watched her for a while, the light from the candles and oil lamp dancing on her smooth skin, she hated sleeping in the dark. He'd never asked why. Tonight, the room was warmer and brighter than usual, he could still see the bruise on her cheek. His fists twisted the bedsheets. If he ever saw Istredd again he doubted there'd be anything left for the birds.

As Geralt drifted off into another restless night, he summoned his minions to the streets of Gors Velen, as he readied himself to take out two birds with one shot.

* * *

 _The Mother's Sacrifice_  - Seba Smith (1792–1868) :  **Chapter 9 – Assassins**

She stripped her mantle from her breast,

And bared her bosom to the storm,

And round the child she wrapped the vest,

And smiled to think her babe was warm.

With one cold kiss, one tear she shed,

And sunk upon her snowy bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys. Hope you enjoyed the latest instalment, the conclusion of Istredd and Yennefer's confrontation and the little bit of fluff at the end to make up for, well, everything else…? It seems that the mysterious figure is drawing closer, who could be next?
> 
> As always feel free to PM me your thoughts or leave a comment, I love hearing from you. My thanks to vic-of-thor (Tumblr) for all the kind words and support and to korbel05 ( ) for all the feedback and suggestions.
> 
> Until next time guys, have a great week – Eileniessa


	10. Assassins

Warnings:

**Contains spoilers for the Witcher 3 Wild Hunt**

* * *

_The Mother's Sacrifice_  - Seba Smith (1792–1868)

She stripped her mantle from her breast,

And bared her bosom to the storm,

And round the child she wrapped the vest,

And smiled to think her babe was warm.

With one cold kiss, one tear she shed,

And sunk upon her snowy bed.

* * *

They awoke to a bright sunny morning but the reminders of yesterday still clung to them like a pungent odour. Yennefer's cheek was red and sore as were the finger-marks on her arms while Triss' magic had worn off as pain once again began to crawl over Geralt's skin like a beetle as he dressed which did nothing to lighten the sorceress' mood, but Ciri was waiting outside their door with good news. Istredd had fled Gors Velen last night but whether this was of his own accord was unknown, but there were rumours that an owl had been seen near his room.

Also, Rita had managed to fix the door angering her fellow headmistress who had been demanding that Yennefer fix the door, as well as half the wall she took with it, with her bare hands because perhaps then she'd learn some respect for the school's foundation. After a quick trip to the infirmary, their moods were improved even further as Yennefer's bruise greatly reduced in size and colour while Geralt's burns were completely cured. A magical academy needed good healers.

As was their custom, Yennefer, Ciri and Geralt were among the last to enter the hall, and when they did the others were discussing whether they would stay for the gathering being held that night, the Lodge having invited them as a show of good faith for their attendance, and they were eager to ask Yennefer's opinion and she answered that it was worth staying for the food if nothing else which seemed to catch their interest. They were still discussing the topic when the Sorceresses summoned them.

"Now that Yennefer has finished redecorating the school," said Philippa venomously, glaring at her with a rage that evidently hadn't subsided over the course of the night, "we can finally end these meetings. Today, one by one you will be brought before the Lodge to swear that your information has been truthful and accurate. Now, let's get this over with."

The group were told to wait in the hall to be called and Cerys was up first, reappearing after only a few minutes and informing Hjalmar he was up next. In just over an hour Ciri, Yennefer and Geralt were the last ones left, as usual. As the young woman disappeared the pair took bets on who would be last. To their surprise, it was the Witcher.

"Ciri and I are going shopping Geralt, so we'll meet you in the brewery inn for lunch." He nodded at the enchantress in response before entering the circular room.

* * *

The members of the Lodge, Philippa Eilhart, Margarita Laux-Antille, Triss Merigold, Keira Metz, Francesca Findabair, Fringilla Vigo and Ida Emean aep Sivney were seated at the top two tables and the former instructed him to stand in the space before her.

"Do you, Sir Geralt of Rivia, swear that the knowledge you have given the Lodge of Sorceress is truthful."

"I swear I've been honest."

"Do you swear that no detail of value or importance has been left out. You may now come forward with anything you have so far withheld without punishment."

"I swear I've been accurate."

"Then, step forward and sign your name." She gestured towards the small stone pedestal in front of her upon which a single quill and roll of parchment lay. He wrote his name and his signature under Yennefer's elaborate handwriting.

"Then your business with the Lodge if over, however, I still have matters to discuss with you. Follow me, and don't complain, Witcher, the less you complain the quicker it will be over."

* * *

Her office was immaculate, every book, quill, ink pot, piece of parchment and magical apparatus was arranged neatly and concisely around the rectangular room. There was a megascope in one corner, its crystals glittering under the light from the large windows lining the back wall and a bloody knife hung in a frame over the door directly opposite, he recognised it as the weapon she'd used to assassinate Redania's King.

"We have a matter to discuss, Witcher, a matter which has still not been resolved." Geralt folded his arms and sighed, he knew this was coming.

"No."

"You haven't even heard my proposal yet."

"You never make proposals Philippa, only threats."

"When did you become so dramatic Witcher, too much time reading novels in Toussaint's heat has placed outrageous notions in your head." She said mockingly.

"We've been here before Philippa, and I'm no more interested in your future or the Lodge's than I was then. All I'm concerned about is Ciri and Yen, so no."

"Don't turn your nose up at me," she took a step closer, "Ciri's future is of the greatest importance to me and to the Lodge as you know, which is why Yennefer's welfare is also of concern to me."

"I find that hard to believe." He said irritably, sharp eyes following Philippa as she walked over to the desk and removed something from one of the drawers.

"So untrusting, Yennefer is rubbing off on you. So here, take a look." She handed him several sealed letters and sat down at the desk watching him intensely, smiling spitefully.

Geralt tore the seal on the first letter and began to read it, what he saw made his body tense. The letters were addressed to Yennefer, to Istredd's  _darling Yennefer_. The Sorceress watched him with joy as he read through their contents, hands shaking. These weren't just love letters, but the letters of an obsessed madman.

There were countless questions: Where are you, my love? Have you been getting me letters? My Darling Yenna, are you alright? My dear, has he hurt you? Yenna are you hiding from him? Do you need my help love? As well as countless promises: Your Val is still waiting for you. Hold on my love, I'm searching for you, I'll find you again. My Darling I'm coming for you, I'll rescue you from him. Hold on for my love, just a while longer, I'm close to you I can feel it. I love you Yenna, I won't ever forget and I won't ever leave you. I'll save you.

"I knew quite well how mad Istredd had gone in his yearning, Witcher," she said as he looked up at her, "and there are countless other letters to prove it. It appears he's been writing them every week since you two ran away together two years ago when Ciri became empress."

"How?" Asked Geralt, brandishing the letters at her. "And why?"

* * *

Loxia was just beginning to come alive as the mages who had already arrived lazily made their way to breakfast, gossiping about recent events, casting curious gazes at Yennefer and Ciri as they walked past

"I don't think I'll ever get used to people staring at me like that." Said Ciri as she caught the eye of one of the Sorceresses who was looking at her, she just smiled at her, unabashed.

"Nobody knows how to stare quite like mages." Replied Yennefer glaring at the other women who this time turned away nervously. "But you needn't worry about it, as long as their staring for the right reasons."

"People never gawk at me for the right reasons." She unconsciously raised a hand to touch the scar on her face but quickly withdrew it. Yennefer's sharp eyes didn't miss it. "I feel very out of palace here, like a moth in amongst the butterflies." She said, looking down at her clothes as she brushed a stray piece of hair from her face

"Nonsense, Ciri." She said turning to the young woman who raised an eyebrow at her. "Now, come, I intend to call you out on that lie."

* * *

Having washed her hair as instructed she walked over to Yennefer who was riffling through her clothing and other belongings, trying to find something suitable and when she looked up she chuckled slightly. Ciri was about to ask what was so funny before she caught sight of herself in the mirror and saw her hair sticking out at varying angles.

"I was trying to get rid of the sand." She said defensively but the Sorceress only smiled more.

"Sit down." She gestured to the chair in front of the dresser and the ashen-haired woman obliged, staring into the mirror as Yennefer gently brushed her hair.

"This reminds me of Ellander." Said the Sorceress after a short while, her violet eyes glowing softly in the mirror's reflection. "You certainly didn't look much like a princess after the Witchers had finished with you."

"When we first meet I felt so embarrassed standing there with dirty clothes, scratched elbows and wildly unkempt hair," she began to fiddle with some of the cosmetics lying on the table, gifts from the enchantress' newly opened shop in Vengerberg, "and I felt jealous, jealous of the beauty you possessed, beauty I could only ever dream of," Ciri said casually, forcing a smile, but she saw her reflection grimace back "you used to call me ugly one."

Yennefer wrapped her warm arms around Ciri's shoulders as she kissed the top her head and caught her eyes in the mirror.

"Do you remember why I used to call you that?" She asked, gripping the young woman's shoulders with delicate hands.

"Yes, because you said all magicians are malicious."

"Precisely. It is a foolish notion, Ciri, to be jealous of what countless others have taken years and great efforts to fabricate when you possess natural beauty." She placed a hand under her a chin, lightly guiding her head so that Ciri was staring into her own emerald eyes. "It is mages such as myself who should feel envy, but never you. Never. Do you understand?"

"Yes, mother." She answered honestly, smiling once more into the mirror, which this time smiled sincerely back.

"Good. I don't want to ever hear such lies again." Yennefer withdrew her arms from the girl and continued to brush her hair until she was satisfied that ever last wisp of ashen-hair had been tamed within an inch of its life.

"Now, try those on." She pointed towards the clothes she had put out on the bed, before sitting in front of the mirror herself and adjusting her own locks which freely flowed down her exposed shoulders. Ciri undressed discarding her clothes for the soft emerald green blouse and skirt embroidered with silver embellishments, and as she tied a fabric belt glistening with small jewels around her waist she drew herself up proudly.

"Oh, how my ugly little duckling has transformed into a magnificent swan." Said Yennefer, holding her out at arms-length and tucking a stray piece of hair behind her ear smiling warmly at Ciri who saw her violet eyes glistening emotionally in a way that made it possible for her not to smile back in return. That's how she always knew. Geralt had taught her that.

"Come let's not delay, I long to show off my elegant daughter."

* * *

"I intercepted them of course," said Philippa innocently, "it wasn't particularly difficult. Istredd spent a great deal of time and magic trying to find her after you two settled down, but luckily, you've both fallen off the grid, with a little help from the Lodge. And why, well." She approached him taking one of the letters from his clasped hand and muttering a spell. The paper lit up and the ruins transcribed on it suddenly became visible. "If Yennefer had opened these, he would have found her, no matter what I did."

"That doesn't answer my question, Philippa." He said placing his hands on the desk as she sat back down. "Why stop him?"

"Did I not say Ciri is my greatest concern? I can see I'm going to have to spell this out for you. Sit." She said patronizingly, but he obeyed growling slightly. "Istredd threatened the Lodge Witcher. If he found Yennefer he would have dragged her away from you and then Ciri would have run to you as you no doubt embarked on some foolish, suicidal quest to get her back, and because if he'd killed you then there'd be nothing keeping Yennefer from interfering with our plans. We'd much rather you two stayed as you were, far away in your dull retirement, together." The runes glowed in the firelight from the candle flickering on the desk reflecting in Geralt's eyes has he scrutinized the headmistress and she stared back at him, enjoying the silence.

"So, you see Geralt, Yennefer's welfare is dearly important to me, as is Ciri's, which is why you will consider what I ask of you." She leant her arms against the desk and leaned forwards, the cloth around her eyes glowing with magic as she watched him carefully like an owl tracking a mouse, searching for any sign she could use to her advantage, to trap him at her mercy. "Their relationship is dangerous Witcher. If Ciri is to become a stable, strong Empress, which I will ensure she is, she cannot afford to have such strong emotional ties. Anyone else could try what the Wild Hunt did, to use your Sorceress against her, which could not only get Ciri killed but countless others at the mercy of her command. As for Yennefer, she already recklessly sacrificed herself once for the girl, and Ciri is now making dangerous enemies who will constantly conspire against her. What would Yennefer do then? Do you understand Witcher? This connection must end."

"No." He said coldly, knuckles whitening with anger as he gripped the intrinsically carved handles of the chair tightly. "You're naive Philippa if you think you could ever take that away, if I'd ever let you." She just smirked at him, as she got up from the desk, his eyes trailing her.

"I'm not trying to force you all apart," she said casually, waving her hand in the air as though swatting away his comment, "I know not to meddle with destiny, I simply wish to create some distance." She took a small glass bottle from one of the shelves and placed it on the desk before him. "Give this to your Sorceress, if you care about her." He looked at the bottle, something was swirling inside it like mist, he'd never seen anything like it. It made him more anxious.

"What it is?" He asked still glaring at her.

"Too many questions Witcher. You wouldn't understand anyway, so I'll simplify it. It's a dream, more or less." He looked at her in disbelief, eyebrow raged, she rolled her eyes. "Stop being so childish."

"Fine, it's a dream. But I can't imagine it's about unicorns, bright summer days and the gentle sounds of the sea. Is this nightmare a plan to scare Yen, so you can wrap her around your fingers like the others?" Eilhart laughed.

"Don't be foolish, Yennefer's too stubborn and proud to fear me or the Lodge. No, this dream Witcher, will give her nightmares so horrible, gruesome, and truthful, that she will never be able to look Ciri in the eye again." She said calmly, swirling the contents of the bottle as she talked. The familiar tendrils of dread still clinging to his shoulders after last night began to crawl up his neck making him shudder at they wrapped themselves around his throat, suffocating him.

"They'll still be mother and daughter Witcher, I doubt anything could change that. But with this, Yennefer with become dissident, fearful of her own advice and Ciri will stop disappearing to Toussaint to speak with her, don't interrupt," she screamed, effectively silencing his protest "I'm not stupid, Witcher…with this they might begin to listen more to reason than instinct, which is safer for everyone." She leant back in her chair, measuring him up, assessing her results. Evidently, she was satisfied as she strode over to the door, the candle flickering as she brushed past plaits swinging behind her. "Keep the letters, and the bottle, and think on it Witcher, think on it very carefully." She held the door open. "Now leave, I have a lot of work to catch up on after having to sort out your Yennefer's mess last night."

He slowly got to his feet the chair scraping against the stone loudly piercing his sensitive hearing, the bottle was clutched so tightly in his hand it risked shattering under his touch. He walked up to the sorceress staring down at her with narrowed eyes.

"I have." His voice was soft, ominous.

Geralt brushed past her out of the room, swiftly disappearing down the school's many corridors, putting as much distance between him and Philippa, and the bottle he'd nimbly placed on the bookshelf, as he took advantage of her poor senses. This time, he was happy that the hunter had failed in its catch.

* * *

His agitated mood did not subside as he went back to their room. Yennefer's various bottles and brushes which were neatly arranged on the dresser by the mirror filled the room with her presence, her scent still lingered there, but she was gone. He'd forgotten. They weren't in Corvo Bianco anymore, where he'd gotten used to having her presence constantly close by. No, they were far from home.

He sat down on the edge of the bed filling his senses with the smell of lilac and gooseberries as he tried to calm the fire Philippa had provoked with  _that_  name. He looked at the letters in his hand, considering them, gazing at the candles beside the bed. Geralt was conflicted. He knew better than to try and hide something from Yennefer, but the thought of burdening her with this made the risk seem more attractive. He was caught in the Lodge's web. He shook his head.

Geralt left the letters under a pile of his clothes, out of sight, as he headed out to the city. Secrets are what so often tore them apart, and Philippa knew that. He would tell her and they could burn the letters together. But he'd never give her the chance to read them.

* * *

The markets happy and merry atmosphere thrived under the sun which blessed the square with a pleasantly warm atmosphere and bright rays of light which shone off various precious metals and stones, fracturing into tiny glowing stars. The vendors had clearly put out all the stocks today, decorating themselves and their stores lavishly in the hope of attracting the mages attention and more importantly their gold.

The stalls looked as though they were about to collapse under the weight of all the products put out on display to lure in their catch. There were quills made from the feathers of rare magnificent Griffins, ink pots of various colours, shapes and sizes, garish and elaborate clothes which would have put Dandelion to shame, fine jewellery from all far corners of the north, wine from the vineyards of Toussaint, Paintings, statues and books from Oxenfurt's new generation of academics, various jars containing pickled specimens uglier in death than they were in life and a wide variety of rich food like cheeses, chocolate, venison, oysters, olive bread and apples, all, of course, as fresh as the morning air.

Yennefer and Ciri didn't know where to start. They giggled like school girls as they took it in turns trying on the funny hats from Zerrikania, Ciri blushed as they found some rather provocative paintings which spared no detail, they mocked the latest edition of  _A Widower For Half A Year_ , they laughed at a statue of Melitele which was so busty it would have given Nenneke nightmares, Yennefer tested the various shades of ink giving a whole new meaning to the phrase colourful cursing, Ciri was amused by the Sorceress' utter contempt for seafood, they compared the pickled specimens with some of their least favourite mages and politicians and they indulged themselves with sweet chocolate and candy floss. They relished each other's company, their laugh, and their smile.

"Maybe we can find you something to wear for the special occasion. These really bring out the colour of your eyes." Said Yennefer as she carefully admired a pair of sparkling emerald green earrings encased in silver, holding them up by Ciri's face. "I've yet to find anything for myself, nothing seems special enough, I imagine I'll have to get something made but luckily there's no end to dress tailors and jewellers up in Toussaint."

"And no end to gossip," said the young woman laughing at Yennefer as she held some bright pink earrings up to her face giggling. "I'm not sure how you've managed to keep it a secret."

"Simple, we haven't told anyone but you, and a simple concealment charm has done the rest. Oh, this seems perfect." She sighed loudly as she looked at the piece of jewellery in her hands, hiding it from Ciri as she tried to look. "Turn around please, and don't you dare peek."

Yennefer's warm hands brushed her neck as the placed the necklace around her, passing her the mirror. She sighed. On the end of a fine chain was a small silver bird in flight, a swallow, which held a smooth green garnet in its minuscule claws.

"It's wonderful." Said Ciri smiling broadly as she stared at her reflection.

"A befitting gift my beautiful little swan."

Satisfied with his coin the vendor took the necklace and gently wrapped it up informing them that it would be delivered to their rooms in Loxia, a special arrangement made to keep the gold flowing, because everyone knew that no mage would be willing to carry heaps of paintings, books, and other such intellectual property around with them. As Yennefer put away her coin purse she winced as the sun glared off the mirror into her eyes causing her to instinctively move her head. Something else glittered in her view. Something on the rooftop.

"Ciri!" The next few seconds were a blur.

Ciri whirled around to the sound of Yennefer's cry, hand reaching for her sword but she never managed to pull it loose. She was knocked sideways and to the ground by a small pair of hands forcing her back. There was a flash of black, white and dark raven locks. The sound of something flying past her head. A thud. A cry of pain. A body dropped to the floor beside her. Blood.

"Mother!"

* * *

_Grief –_ Carol Ann Duffy :  **Chapter 10 – Poison**

Grief, your gift, unwrapped,

my empty hands made heavy,

holding when they held you

like an ache; unlooked for,

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, guys. Hope you enjoyed the new chapter, loved writing some Yennefer and Ciri fluff, a nice change after Istredd, no fighting just some simple, harmelss shopping…oh wait…maybe not...nothing seems to go well.
> 
> As always feel free to PM me your thoughts or leave a comment, I love hearing from you. My thanks to vic-of-thor (Tumblr) for all the kind words and support and to korbel05 ( ) for all the feedback and suggestions.
> 
> Until next time guys, have a great week – Eileniessa


	11. Poison

Warnings:

**Contains spoilers for the Witcher 3 Wild Hunt**

* * *

_Grief –_ Carol Ann Duffy:

Grief, your gift, unwrapped,

my empty hands made heavy,

holding when they held you

like an ache; unlooked for,

* * *

The presence and feel of such a beautiful, warm and inviting day helped calm Geralt's mind as it burnt away the remainders of the cold dread clinging to him. The bustle of the city kept him from the thoughts plaguing his mind as he picked his way through crowds of merchants, travellers, students, mages, artists and citizens all going about their business under the bright midday sun.

The Witcher's nerves were also calmed by the scent he followed. He didn't want to interrupt Yennefer and Ciri's time together, but nor could he oust Philippa's accusations, as much as he may want to deny what she said, there was some verisimilitude in it. He needed to see them, to help quell the dread, because he couldn't shake the feeling. It followed him like a ghostly shadow, enveloping his subconscious in the night and digging into his conscious during the day. Dread had wrapped its icy fingers around his soul, always present but out of reach, refusing to be banished from the host it feeds upon. Absorbing his misery like a parasite, draining him of energy, like a Hym.

People were scurrying around the market like ants, mages darting from one stall to the next, street urchins running out to the vendors with more supplies to stock up, strapping men loading package after package onto wagons to be taken to the colony. Geralt didn't want to dive into the throng, so leaning against a nearby wall he searched the sea of heads for the queens.

It didn't take him long to spot them in the crowd, Yennefer's shining raven locks and Ciri's dazzling emerald green clothes instinctively drawing his eyes. He sighed. Their smiles glittered as radiantly as the precious metals and gems on the stall they were inspecting as the Sorceress placed something around the neck of her daughter, glowing with pride. He tried to bury his apprehension in their smiles.

But then the air around him turned cold as dread breathed down his neck freezing him to the spot and making his hairs stand on end. It would not let him draw his attention from the two women. Icy crystals pierced his heart as dread fastened its grip and the scream shot through him like the bolt which slammed into the woman dressed in black and white, knocking her to the ground. The earth seemed to shake around him. But all he could do was scream.

"Yen!"

* * *

Ciri crawled over to the figure lying on the floor beside her, watching in horror as the shaft buried in Yennefer's shoulder quivered as she writhed in pain on the cobblestones clutching her hand around the dart, trying to stop the flow of blood staining her white shirt.

"Ci…ri..g…go." The pain was eating away at her words, choking her with its grip, but her violet eyes were still full of menace, and anger, as she glared up at the figure on the rooftop cloaked in black, moving as though they were a lingering shadow as it prepared the next dart.

The rage within her began to growl for license, the monster clawed at her insides lured and empowered by the scent of bittersweet blood by the smell of tainted lilac and gooseberries and the narcotic of vengeance coursed through her veins sharpening her mind like fisstech as she threw conscience, dread and fear to the darkest remnants of her mind, becoming a slave to her primitive instincts.

Ciri heard Zireael hum as she swiped it free, the sound ringing in her ears, drowning out the panic around her as the colony scattered at the sight, there was mass hysteria. She stood in front of the woman lying on the ground and her eyes narrowed, her breathing slowed, her sword vibrated with anticipation. Another bolt shot through the air, and the sun glared off Ciri's sword as she deftly deflected the projectile which clattered to the ground, rolling away. There was another whoosh.

The bolt disintegrated as it passed through the barrier which surrounded her and a bolt of sizzling lightning shot over her head and struck the cloaked figure, reducing him to nothing more than a pile of ash, the smoke snaking its way up towards the clear sky and its stench of decay dulling the scent of fresh food.

Yennefer was almost as white as the linen cloth covering the stalls in the market, hissing with pain through grated teeth as she leaned against the side of the stall for support, leaving a glistening red handprint on its wooden surface.

"Yen!" Geralt came darting out of the blue grabbing the enchantress around the waist and taking her free arm in his to support her, gently guiding her over to the bench nearby, Ciri trailing after them like a lost puppy. The rage within her began to skulk back into the shadows, there was nothing now to fuel the fire and the cold began to seep through her bones filling her eyes with fear.

"Mother, please no…" Said Ciri as she sat beside Yennefer on the bench, watching as the enchantress threw back her head, closing her eyes to the intruding sun, and to the white-hot blistering pain which pierced through her eyelids. The Witcher tore away some of the cloth on a nearby stall and pressed it against the wound, careful to avoid touching the bolt. His face was stony, serious, focused, but Ciri saw her own fears reflected in those yellow eyes.

"Ciri," she felt Yennefer's hand weakly grasp her own, her violet eyes still shining with defiance, and stubbornness "I'm...fi...fine. Don't…look…so...wor…ried." She said, forcing a meek smile as she looked at her, squeezing her hand.

"Yen, I'm going to pull it out." Said Geralt quietly, holding her other hand and rubbing his thumb affectionately over the back. "Are you ready?" She nodded in response and closed her eyes.

One hand still holding the cloth to Yennefer's shoulder, Geralt reached for the shaft of the bolt listening to the sound of her presence, her heart and her breath, to drown out the sounds of the demon feeding on him. Suddenly an owl came swooping down on them, scratching the Witcher's outstretched hands before he could grasp the bolt, he grunted and recoiled swatting away the pest, his hand thumping into the bird with a soft thud knocking it into the cobblestones. There was a poof of smoke and Phillipa appeared lying on the floor beside the bench.

"Stop! You could kill her!" Screamed the Sorceress, wiping the blood from her lips as she picked herself up from the floor and approached, completely unperturbed by the Witcher's clenched fist and glowering stare, instead her eyes seem fixed on Yennefer.

"What are you talking about." He growled.

He'd expected some sarcastic and venomous riposte but Philippa just looked at him as she clicked her fingers and the deflected crossbow bolt shot into her hand. She muttered a quick spell at the shaft of the projectile lit up revealing the tiny little runes carved into it, as though the wood has been scorched.

"That bolt is magic, if it was meant for her, she'd already be dead," she heard Ciri gasp, "but you could still cause her a lot of harm by removing it. So, listen to me very carefully, we cannot delay. Ciri" she turned her face to the young woman whose gaze was still peeled to Yennefer, to the blood seeping through the cloth like wine spilled on the table cloth, "go to the hall where the mages dine, get Triss and Francesca or Ida." She nodded.

"Hold on mother." Ciri said softly, smiling at her sadly as she reluctantly let go of her hand, of the warmth and comfort keeping her sane, and disappearing in a flash of blue, the air around her pulsating with magic.

"Witcher support her." Said Philippa as she sat beside Yennefer in the vacated seat turning to her colleague who was scrutinizing her as though trying to discern her comportment. "I'm going to cast a spell, it will put you to sleep and slow the runes magic. Don't argue Yenna." She added knowingly, and Geralt could see that Yennefer seemed slightly taken aback for her words as her right eyebrow twitched ever so slightly, her tell-tale sign of bewilderment, but he didn't understand why.

"Please Yen." Said Geralt, wrapping his arm around her waist and kissing the top of her head as she rested it against his shoulder, taking his hand. She nodded at the other Sorceress who gently placed a hand on her forehead and began to work.

"arafu'r boen, gweddill fy annwyl mewn breuddwydion melys… Rest, Yenna." She said softly as Yennefer's eyes slid shut and her face became serenely beautiful, her body and her mind calmed by the magic spilling from Philippa's fingertips as small trails of light fluttered over her body like fat pixies.

As the headmistress focused on her spell she seemed placid and dispassionate, but Geralt was sure that out of the corner of his eye he saw her hand, still fastened around the cross-bow bolt, shaking. But Philippa showed no signs of exhaustion as she sat, perched on the edge of the bench, gazing down at the sleeping Sorceress with a composed expression, her hand still lightly pressed against Yennefer's forehead.

The seconds seemed to stretch past like the final grains of sand slipping through an hourglass, one by one. Geralt could hear people cautiously approaching the market square but their advance was halted as the air began to crackle with magic like a storm, there was a flash of blue and two women emerged as though from thin air. Ciri and Francesca.

"She's sleeping." Said Geralt quickly as Ciri ran over towards them, the Daisy of the Valley gracefully gliding behind her without such urgency. She nodded but didn't look reassured, biting her bottom lip, hands unconsciously pulling at her skirt.

"Is this safe to remove?" Asked Philippa, handing the projectile over to Francesca. who twirled it in her dainty hands, rigorously inspecting the runes burned onto its surface and with great interest, as though studying an alluring artifact with all the time in the world. "Ciri return to the school at once, there could still be assassins out here."

"No." She answered as she began shuffling at on the spot casting nervous glances between Geralt, the blood and the elf, only shooting a fleeting glance at Triss and Keira as they emerged from a portal, hurrying over. "I'm not leaving her."

"Don't be foolish, go. Besides, Yenna would want you to be safe."

"And I want her to be safe, so no, you could still need me!" The Sorceress opened her mouth to protest again but Francesca cut her short.

"It can be safely removed." She said, turning to Philippa, her memorizing golden locks shimmering like molten stars. "But you were right to check. This is very old magic, and very dangerous. It's marked for the young Empress, I can feel the connection between them. We were fortunate that Yennefer has an apparent affliction for self-sacrifice, to her, the unintended target, it is simply a dart, but as for Cirilla, it would have killed her with a scratch."

Geralt felt some of the weight slowly begin to lift from his shoulders as the dread began to recoil and slink once more into the shadows clinging to him, the wound itself was not a terrible ordeal. He glanced down at the sleeping beauty curled up against his side, held in his protective embrace their hands locked together, their warmth one and the same, her lips were tugged into a silent smile, in her dreams she was alienated from the horrors of the world, for a time. But Ciri's shoulders drooped under the albatross still laid upon her as though trying to bury her in the ground with her grief.

"Let us begin." Said Philippa, her gaze turning momentarily from Yennefer to the two latest arrivals to the scene. "Keira stop the bleeding, Triss heal the wound, I will keep her asleep and numb the pain, Witcher prepare to remove the dart." He nodded as Ciri unwillingly moved away to allow the Sorceress to work, sickened by her own helplessness which was making her stomach churn.

"Ciri, she'll be fine." Said Geralt, looking at the young woman who was pacing up and down in front of the bench, the spitting image of Yennefer when she was worried, despite himself the Witcher smiled and this sincere act helped calm Ciri who stopped pacing and knelt on the ground beside him, waiting for the magic to begin. Geralt never lied to make things better, perhaps that's why he could always help reassure her. She squeezed Geralt's hand and he nodded.

Gently letting go of Yennefer's hand his fingers hovered around the shaft as though made of stone, his hands barely moving as he looked at Philippa who nodded. In one swift and precise movement, he pulled the dart from her shoulder without causing more damage, throwing it to the ground with a clatter and taking Yennefer's hand again as magic washed over her body, his medallion vibrating against his chest.

A few droplets of blood, which shone like rubies in the sun, trickled from the wound and down her exposed skin before Keira managed to subdue the life essence trying to escape its vessel while Triss efficiently began to heal the puncture wound, drawing the edges together like stitching together a hole with invisible needles. Yennefer didn't move a muscle, still wrapped up and sedated by her heavenly dreams, like a sleeping angel.

The crowd returning to the square were pointing and gawking at the scene, whispering behind their backs, their voices carried in the void surrounding them.

"It's the Witcher and the Sorceress from Master Dandelion's and Callonetta's ballads and poems…"

"The lovers of yore…"

"Look, the girl with the scar on her cheek, their child of destiny."

"See how she's pacing…frightfully worried."

"Oh, how the Witcher looks at her."

"Huh! No mutant is capable of love, but…yet…you're right..."

"I saw it! I saw the Lady Magician push her aside!"

"How can that be? A Sorceress' heart is made of ice…"

"Is this how Rivia looked?"

"What I wouldn't give to be in his shoes right now, holding a woman like that."

After just over a minute the wound on Yennefer's shoulder had been reduced to nothing but a tiny red pinprick, as though she had caught herself on the thorn of a rose. Triss and Keira withdrew slightly but Philippa's magic still drifted over the unconscious form as the trails of light suddenly burned more brightly causing the beads of sweat on Philippa's forehead to shine, before the light was absorbed by Yennefer's body and the Sorceress nonchalantly began to open her eyes, sighing softly like a child awakening from deep slumber.

"Yen, how do you feel." Asked Geralt quietly, as the fragments of sleep clouding her senses slowly began to drift away and her features altered, violet eyes flashing with concern as she sat up, the Witcher's arm still cradled around her protectively.

"Ciri," She said softly as the young woman quickly slid into the seat beside her, which Philippa had just vacated to speak in hushed whispers with the other members of the Lodge. "Are you alright?" She asked, tucking several wild strands of ashen hair behind her ear, her warm hand gently brushing her cheek.

"I'm fine." Replied Ciri trying to force a smile which soon faltered as she looked at Yennefer, before lowering her eyes to the floor. "Again my blood has caused yours to spill…Mother, I'm sorry, I-"

Her words were cut off as Yennefer pulled her into a tight embrace, and Ciri buried her face in the Enchantress' hair, she often sought comfort there.

"You have nothing to apologise for, I make my own decisions." She whispered, affectionately stroking Ciri's head. "I value my daughter's safety before my own, a decision I have the right to make, as a Mother, and that will never change Ciri because it is a decision I could never regret."

Yennefer pulled away and held the young woman by the shoulders forcing Ciri to meet her gaze, the warmth of her smile making her violet eyes sparkle like amethysts in a look as equally rare and precious. She made it impossible for her to argue back and Ciri beamed at her, Yennefer's words and her love were an afflatus, melting away the cold burden which filled Ciri with pain, carrying it out to the distant sea as it evaporated in the midday sun.

"Just promises me you won't do that ever again." Yennefer laughed.

"You know I don't make promises I can't keep."

As they talked, Geralt felt himself drawn towards the Lodge's hushed conversation as they proposed the answer to the question he had silently been pondering.

"Phil, how did you get here so quickly?" Asked Triss.

"I had eyes and ears in the city today, to-"

"You were spying on them?!" Interrupted Keira in a harsh whisper, Philippa glowering at her for her rude insolence, hands on her hips.

"Don't be so crude. I was simply keeping any eye out for Istredd, I didn't trust that he might not try to return despite our warnings. The last thing we needed was a fight breaking out in the city." Said the headmistress coldly.

"Are you sure that's all there is to it…" Said Francesca tauntingly, flashing Philippa a dazzling smile.

Geralt drew himself away from the conversation as Ciri and Yennefer turned their smiles to him, dispelling that last cold fragments of this horrible nightmare, laughing as Yennefer tried to stifle a yawn unsuccessfully. The incident had only lasted several minutes, though it had felt implausibly longer at the time as fear counts each passing second, now it seemed just like another bad memory in this unusually horrific week.

"Go back to your room and sleep Yennefer, there is no point trying to fight my spell," said Philippa as she stood in front of the bench, looming over, "it will take effect in the end. Sleep and in a few hours, you'll feel fine and more importantly, we'll be safe from any more interruptions. Francesca will open a portal for you and another."

"Ready?" Asked Geralt, taking Yennefer's arm to support her as she nodded, wearily getting to her feet.

"I think we might have to take a rain check on that meal." Said Yennefer, trying to stifle another yawn as they walked over towards the Daisy of the Valley.

"I'll bring you something." Said Ciri, walking alongside them in a considerably better mood.

"Hmmm, it's not quite the same as breakfast in bed, but that sounds wonderful, just don't give anything to Geralt, he gets crumbs everywhere."

As they waited for the portal Yennefer watched Philippa fly off with a very queer expression on her face which promoted Geralt to ask if something was wrong.

"No, Geralt its nothing, don't panic. It's just…I don't think Philippa has ever called me Yenna before, not like that."

As they disappeared through the portal Geralt was so absorbed in his concern he didn't notice that the dread clawing at his soul, filling his body with icy crystals and making his nerves stand on end, was gone. The shadow he saw in his reflection, the omen which had followed him since they arrived in the cave on their way to Gors Velen, the shadow which had been feeding of his misery and pain as he watched friends and loved ones suffer, had gone. The shadow was ready to make their appearance. To collect on their pact.

* * *

_Dorian Gray –_ Oscar Wilde –  **Chapter 11 : The Gathering**

"What does it profit a man if he gain the whole world and lose his own soul?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, hope you enjoyed the latest chapter. I know Yennefer has fainted, been attacked by Istredd AND been shot but I swear to God I do like her…honest. So, who's ready to finally meet the figure behind this series of unfortunate events?! I wonder who'll guess it right…
> 
> As always feel free to PM me your thoughts or leave a comment, I love hearing from you. My thanks to vic-of-thor (Tumblr) for all the kind words and support and to korbel05 ( ) for all the feedback and suggestions.
> 
> Until next time guys, have a great week – Eileniessa


	12. The Gathering

Warnings:

**Contains spoilers for the Witcher 3 Wild Hunt and Time of Contempt**

* * *

_Dorian Gray –_ Oscar Wilde

"What does it profit a man if he gain the whole world and lose his own soul?"

* * *

The Witcher drew the curtains shut as Yennefer threw her bloodied shirt in the fire and undressed, slipping into a white nightgown before disappearing under the bed sheets. By the time Ciri arrived, carrying a basket of bread, cheeses, fruit, meat and other items, the Sorceress had once again drifted into an abnormally tranquil sleep, her head resting on Geralt's chest as he sat beside her on the bed, arms wrapped around her, caressing her hand.

Ciri pulled a chair over to the bed and they enjoyed some of the food, made light conversation and played some gwent, soon becoming aware that whatever magic Philippa had used meant that there was no risk to waking Yennefer who was as still as the wine suspended in their goblets. She slept until well into the afternoon, waking to the rather amused faces of Ciri and Geralt.

"What?" She asked suspiciously, wiping the sleep from her eyes and scrutinizing the pair who looked at each other and smirked, the look made her nervous, they were evidently up to no good.

"With one kiss from her beloved, the fair and beautiful maiden finally awakens from her eternal slumber." Said Ciri laughing as Yennefer rolled her eyes and groaned softly, fidgeting around in the Witcher's arms.

"Nay, but she is not any maiden but the fairest and most beautiful maiden of them all, with eyes that shine like violet stars." Said Geralt, chuckling as she pouted at him, tilting her head back to look straight up at him, head still on his chest.

"A Princess cursed by the wicked Owl Witch, who was jealous of her charm, until the noble knight, Sir Geralt of Rivia, and his faithful squire Cirilla, saved her from a fate worse than death and they liv- Hey!" Ciri shouted as Yennefer sat up in bed and threw a pillow in her face, muffling her giggling which was making the chair rock.

"Does the hero of this fable get a kiss from his thankful Princess?" Asked Geralt grinning impishly at the Enchantress, who raised an eyebrow at him one of the corners of her mouth tugged into a suggestive smile as she pulled him close, hands on his chest as she placed a soft kiss on his lips. He saw the glint in her eyes too late she pulled away and a split second later he found himself lying on the floor as Yennefer pushed him off the bed, smiling triumphantly.

"Oh no, don't you dare!" She screamed angrily kicking away the Witcher's hand as it reached for her and glaring at Ciri who was reaching for the pillow lying on the floor. "You've had your fun now leave me in peace, I need to get ready for the Gathering, go on."

She chased the young woman out of the door before sitting down in front of the dresser to begin the lengthy preparations, her cosmetics laid out neatly on the table like the tools in a workshop. Geralt lounged on the bed, watching her in the mirror, he liked watching her get ready, something Yennefer was very aware of as she pulled seductive faces in the mirror, careful to catch the Witcher's eye every now and then.

* * *

"Yen, you look truly beautiful." Said Geralt charmingly as the Sorceress proudly presented herself to him, a stunning white and black diamond.

The black dress hung from Yennefer's shoulders with a modestly plunging neckline, a small brown belt decorated with shining silver studs accentuated her slender waist, underneath the belt the smooth black fabric, which tumbled down to the floor teasing it with its touch, parted, revealing the luxurious white silk beneath, as pure as snow, covering her upper thigh, as well as her tall shapely heels, the dark sleeves which gently hugged her arms at the top loosened so that the wide cuffs flowed with her gracious movement, the whole dress was delicately embroidered with subtle silver-white thread which carved elaborate patterns in the cloth. The obsidian star on her neck gleamed, as sharp as her violet eyes and warm smile, shimmering raven locks cascading around her.

"More beautiful than a fabled Princess?" She whispered softly, provocatively walking over to him, dress gliding around her.

"More beautiful than any fabled creation, because there aren't words to describe how dazzling you look." Yennefer laughed softly, eyes gleaming like the stars through their window and she rewarded his candid compliment with a kiss, lilac and gooseberries enveloping his senses.

"Thank you, my dashing knight." She said, smoothing out a crease in Geralt's clothing which of course was complimentary to her own, a short black doublet with the same embellishments sitting on top of a white shirt, his medallion hanging around his neck. "Now, let's go find our little swan, and remember to enjoy yourself Geralt, one more night and we can be free of this place, of this world."

He nodded, taking her on his arm as they walked to the door. If truth be told, though he was anxious to leave this place, to once more hide away in their tranquil vineyard, their home, he was not completely apprehensive about the event. Today he would be able to recognise several friendly faces in amongst the mages, Lambert, Eskel, Hjalmar, Cerys, Ermion, Roche, Ves, Dandelion, Priscilla, and Zoltan were all attending which was sure to lighten the mood.

He also no longer feared the inquisitive minds of the Lady and Lord Magicians, though many had been surprised by his appearance some years before, searching his mind for thoughts despite etiquette, he doubted that would be the case now, the grapevine in this community was magically enhanced and the incident in the square and common room had likely meant that news of their retirement had been whispered into every ear that lent itself to idle rumours and gossip, but also because a part of him wanted to watch them choke on their envy and on their contempt and vile misjudgements. For them to see their happiness and to choke on it, to choke on their words about an unloving mutant with a lust only for blood and a poisonous manipulative Enchantress with a heart of ice. It would bring them both bittersweet satisfaction, to retreat from this political war with the last laugh.

As expected Ciri was waiting impatiently for them outside, and Yennefer sighed and embraced her, admiring her daughter. Her elegant emerald dress hovered just off the floor with silver and gold patterns intrinsically sewn into the smooth fabric, it had slightly transparent sleeves and a slit down one side of the dress, below the waist, Yennefer's gift, the lovely little swallow hung around her neck and a silver pin held back her unruly hair.

Offering Ciri his other arm, the trio joined the colourful and talkative congregation parading to the palace's hall like peacocks.

* * *

The central hall was slightly different to what Geralt could recall, the changes likely resembling Philippa and Rita's own taste. It had maintained its T-like shape, but the top of the room, the top of the T, was covered not only in large windows which stared out into the night sky but was also connected to a balcony on which a magnificently carved fountain of several mages, a dragon, and a unicorn stood. The roof was so high that the carvings of constellations and stars it depicted seemed just as out of reach at the real night sky. On the table lining the walls were various dishes and pageboys scurried in and out of the crowd with trays of wine. Once again, he found himself stunned by the magnificence of the palace.

Yennefer reminded them of all the faux pas to avoid and what etiquette demanded of them, such as minimal eating and drinking, no use of magic, no avoiding other people, no sitting, greeting others in the appropriate and respectable manner, no mumbling, no gambling, no sneaking out before midnight and comporting oneself with dignity. Which the trio summarised as only minimal fun.

The assembled group was considerably smaller than on the last occasion, not only had a large number of mages been killed, but a fair few had refused to attend the event, fearful of the incident which had occurred last time. But there were still plenty of figures flooding the hall which made it hard for Geralt and Ciri to pick out familiar faces. As Yennefer steered them around the room for all the gawking and curious Sorcerers and Sorceresses to cast their gazes on, her pride satisfied she allowed them to stop at one of the tables. The pair were enjoying some of the seafood as Yennefer greeted several colleagues one of which caught the Witcher's attention.

"Good to see you again, Dorregaray of Vole." Said Geralt, nodding towards the Sorcerer who had approached them.

"Geralt, Yennefer, how pleasant it is to see you again, finally I find myself in agreeable company." He said, making a sweeping gesture towards the rest of the room.

"Delighted to see you again," said Yennefer offering her hand to the mage who kissed it as etiquette demands, "allow me to introduce our daughter, Cirilla of Vengerberg." Ciri, following the Sorceress' lead, offered her hand.

"Glad to meet you," said Ciri smiling at him, "I've heard stories about your fascination with endangered species."

"Yes, which is why I'm very glad that you, Witcher Geralt, have decided to set down your sword and that none of you are decorated in trophies, just look at around, it's awful, see those shoes made from wyvern leather just there." He said, pointing towards one of the Enchantress who caught his eye and smiled spitefully back at him. "Arrogant and vindictive crowd, I'd much rather stay away from this gathering, but I need my connections, as for you, why return to this political mess?"

"You cannot deny that curiosity also drove you here, as it has with me. But that alone is the reason." Said Yennefer calmly, raising an eyebrow at him to which he shrugged in response.

"I see that your time away has not done anything to dull your senses and sharp wit," said Dorregaray forthright, swirling the wine in his goblet, "beware, I see several others eyeing you up with suspicion."

"Thank you, but now if you'd please forgive us I see Keira over there, farewell." They left the table quickly, trying to avoid being cornered by the other mages looking at them. "I heard he spies for Kovir now." Whispered Yennefer, Geralt sighed.

As they made their way over towards some familiar faces their progress was halted several times by unavoidable conversations, as mages greeted Yennefer and nonchalantly inquired about her business, evidently trying to uncover whether the Duchess had a new spy, this pleasant, disguised interrogation extending to Ciri and Geralt. Yennefer easily deflected their inquisitive glances elsewhere, her violet eyes narrowing dangerously when the mages did not heed her charming threats which soon urged them to move on. Eventually, they managed to reach a small group gathered in front of one of the large windows, a group that the mages were eyeing with a mixture of undisguised antipathy mingled with dangerous interest.

"Did they try to question you?" Asked Triss, who was wrapped around Eskel's arm, her silver and blue dress sparkling as she turned to them.

"Heavens, some of them are so desperate for any information they've resorted to clawing for straws, it's truly pathetic." Said Yennefer, snorting, and Keira laughed.

"They find it hard to believe that any mage isn't involved in politics." She said, hastily slapping Lambert's hand as he tried to reach for more food, he growled at her and quickly downed his wine before she had a chance to take that from him as well. "Lambert, I'd ask if they taught you manners at Kaer Morhen if I hadn't seen Geralt, even Eskel behaving so well." She scoffed, folding her arms, the Witcher just rolled his eyes but didn't comment.

"This etiquette is even more suffocating than in the royal court." Moaned Roche who was leaning against a wall, carefully watching the other occupancies while Ves glared at anyone who looked as though they wanted to approach the Commander, warning them off. "The wine tastes like Piss, the food is less than I'd eat on rations and one slip up to the wrong person could see bloodshed."

"It's worse than any battlefield I've ever seen," said Zoltan, taking a swig from the hip flask he's snuck it, several of the others looking jealously at him as they fiddled unhappily with their goblets, "and I was at the Battle of Brenna, these mages look at us with as much disgust and mercy as the Witch Hunters looked at non-humans. I swear the next Sorcerer who walks past me like I'm a piece of dung they stepped in will end up with my fist in their snotty, smug face." Several of the others laughed.

"Speaking of smug, where are Dandelion and Priscilla?" Asked Geralt, still smiling.

"Practicing on the balcony." Answered Triss, tucking a piece of auburn hair behind her ear and gazing out the window towards the fountain where two brightly coloured figures were sitting. "Rita managed to convince Philippa to let them play."

"How?" Asked Keira in surprise. "And why? Does Rita have something on Phil I wonder? No, she's too scared to try something like that…"

"I don't want to think about it." Replied Triss. "But apparently Rita felt it was necessary to 'lighten the mood' I mean, there's still a lot of hostility, Ida and Francesca are wise to be keeping themselves distant and look how few of us there are, oh, so many faces missing." She said sadly holding a hand to her face, lost in thought.

"You lot on the continent don't know the meaning of the word banquet." Shouted Hjalmar, guzzling down a handful of salmon, ignoring his sister's grunts of disgust. "Come to Skellige and we'll show you how its really done." He heard several Sorceresses nearby giggle slightly as they watched the foreign warrior out of the corner of their eye.

"No thanks, the last Skellige feast I went to, we were on the menu." Said Geralt, catching Yennefer's eye and grinning slyly. "The sight was unbearable."

"We'll Skelliges have always been a little grizzly." She replied as Ciri shook her head in despair, shrugging at the others.

"But they have an undeniable sweet tooth." Yennefer pursed her lips, frowning and after several seconds sighed.

"Fine, you win this time Geralt." She said smiling at him. "But, you still have a long way to go if you want to catch up with me."

"Wait, you're keeping score."

"Of course I am, I'm winning." Geralt shook his head.

"Of course, Yen."

* * *

While the Sorceresses spent some of their time mingling with the other banqueters, occasionally dragging their Witchers and Witcheress rather reluctantly along with them, though Keira soon gave up after having a rather heated argument on the balcony with Lambert, Ciri and Geralt reserved most of their time for the small group of non-mages huddled in the corner, provoking a lot of disapproving looks with their ruckus laughter, these glances modestly attempting to conceal their envy. After a while, Yennefer glided back over to the Witcher's side gently taking his arm in hers as Rita, who had just left the Enchantress' side to head out to the fountain, went to fetch Dandelion and Priscilla.

"I fear you may soon have to rescue your uncouth companion from this sea of vipers," she said as the two bards passed by them, grinning stupidly, unaware of the storm they were walking into, "but we'll see. Maybe these vile peacocks will lend an ear to them rather than secrets and rumours for a change."

"Let's hope Priscilla can keep Dandelion from putting his foot in it." Sighed Zoltan as several of the Sorceresses pointed at him, smiling seductively.

"That's like hoping for a miracle." Said Ciri under her breath as the small group emerged into the limelight to more clearly hear the music, thrilled to have some form of entertainment, some merriment to drown out the buzzing of idle and dull gossip.

Several of the mages looked inquisitively at Dandelion as he egotistical introduced himself and Priscilla in a manner very closely resembling the fanfare and unnecessary airs and graces the mages themselves used, and several turned to the bards with mounting amusement, looking at them but without breaking their conversation. However, when the subject of their first ballad became evident the lull of voices did somewhat die down as the song rather dangerously endorsed their narcissism, Dandelion vauntingly singing their praises with a great deal of beautiful and glamorous embellishments.

The second performance bought as much entertainment as joy as it glorified the heroics of the Sorceresses, the Witchers and their companions in defeating the Wild Hunt mostly focusing on the battle at Kaer Morhen and Skellige, about the Raven Sorceress, the White Wolf and the Swallow of Destiny. Philippa watched the duo like a hawk ready to swoop down on them if they changed so much a connective.

There was some commotion amongst the Magicians afterwards, and Philippa smiled pompously as several colleagues accosted her at once, eager for information which she no doubt enjoyed flaunting over them, and people we're casting jealous glances towards Yennefer, Geralt, and Ciri who were smiling happily among themselves.

The third ballad had a very peculiar effect as the mages tried to compose themselves seriously and coldly which was made difficult by the ridiculous blaspheming of the eternal fire and the Witch Hunters. Geralt found it rather satisfying to witness as did the Sorceress clinging to his arm who was tacitly drawing his and Ciri's attention to some of the ballad's most peculiar effects, somewhat vindictively.

Several other performances to follow, though again dedicated to magic, did not appeal as much to the mages egotism and little attention was given to the bards, but the atmosphere seemed remarkably calmer and Geralt's medallion only vibrated ever so slightly as the magic crackling nervously on hundreds of fingertips subsided.

"Would you look at that," said Zoltan chuckling to himself, "the idiot didn't fuck it up."

"There's still time, don't worry." Said Yennefer, scowling at Geralt as he pinched some of the grapes from her hand. "You might still have your chance to save him, now or after the gathering." She gestured towards a group of Sorceresses whispering and giggling amongst themselves, gawking at the bards as Dandelion winked at them.

"Dandelions on his own this time." Said the Witcher shaking his head. "I'm retired."

"Zoltan looks like you've got a new employment opportunity." Joked Ciri, fiddling with her swallow necklace.

"I think I'll pass, I can't imagine the pay is worth it."

* * *

"We thank you for your most gracious hospitality and for being so kind as to lend us a moment of your precious time." Said Dandelion with a charming smile and an elaborate bow an hour later, well into the night.

"We request but one more song," said Priscilla, smiling radiantly around the room with a joy that any enchantress would find great difficulty in replicating, "to thank Lady Yennefer of Vengerberg. The Wolven Song."

Geralt smiled at the Sorceress wrapped around his arms her lips tugging into a sweet smile as they were absorbed by the song, which here, in this moment, seemed more beautiful than ever.  _Damn Yen, I want to kiss you_. He thought. He felt Yennefer's hand slip into his as she turned to him.

"You needn't ask Geralt, not here, not anywhere. Never again." She said softly, squeezing his hand. Their senses submerged in the beautiful song floating around them, they felt and saw only each other as they kissed, and Yennefer sighed deeply. "I love you, Geralt." She purred quietly, their faces lingering as they pulled away, blocking out everything else around them.

"And I love you, Yen, forever."

Geralt wished that moment could have lasted forever. Friends gathered around them, united by differences as much as similarities, gleefully enjoying the peculiar company, for eternity. Their child of destiny beaming at them cheerfully, free from her demons at last, able to live her life in peace, with them, for eternity. The woman of his dreams, his raven-haired beauty locked securely in his embrace, gazing up at him lovingly, eyes shining with the happiness they had finally attained, for eternity, never to be parted from his side. But wishes are fickle things, built on a foundation of manipulation, tricks, and illusions. Wishes are like a reflection, they bring what was asked, not what was wanted. And like reflections, wishes cannot be escaped. Like a reflection, wishes are eternal.

Time seemed to slow as the room went eerily quiet, each breath, each footstep, each heartbeat impossibly loud. As was the whistling. The uncanny tune rang in his ears like the bells of a funeral, filling his heart with inescapable sorrow as dread clawed at his soul as though trying to wrench it from its host, filling his body with icy crystals that pierced his flesh tearing him apart from the inside out. He felt the shadow which had only recently departed him slink from the shadows, sending a shiver down his spine as his hairs stood on end and his senses became alert. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught his reflection in an empty silver dish. He saw the demon clinging to him. Peered into devilish eyes that were not his own. Saw death staring back at him. His face burned.

A slow, melodic applause echoed around the room drawing the eyes of all in the room, like the pied piper charming the vermin and the weak-willed, as a figure, who's face was as pale as a white clover, promises, dressed in a tunic as yellow as the bird's foot trefoil, revenge, and blue trousers as cold as the water of a fountain, dread, slowly but purposefully approached the Witcher, dark brown eyes searing with malevolence. Yennefer gasped. She recognised this monster from Geralt's nightmares and of course, he knew her, he knew everything.

"A beautiful ballad, but I dare so no tale could truly immortalise the beautiful love of the mighty lovers of yore, Lady Yennefer of Vengerberg and Sir Geralt of Rivia, or of their love for their child of destiny Her Highness Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon." Said the figure wisely as he bowed deeply before them, right hand on his chest, left arm extended out to his side.

"What do you want, Gaunter O'Dimm."

* * *

_Hamlet_ by William Shakespeare -  **Chapter 12: Reflection**

"to my shame I see The imminent death of twenty thousand men, That for a fantasy and trick of fame Go to their graves like beds,"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, hope you enjoyed the latest chapter. At long last the mysterious figure has been revealed, hopefully some of the things which have been happening will make more sense now, such as the nightmare in the prologue. I tried to subtly hint at who it was, I've had a couple of people guess right, wonder who else did! Now, what could he want…
> 
> As always feel free to PM me your thoughts or leave a comment, I love hearing from you. My thanks to vic-of-thor (Tumblr) for all the kind words and support and to korbel05 ( ) for all the feedback and suggestions.
> 
> Until next time guys, have a great week – Eileniessa


	13. Reflection

 

Warnings:

**Contains spoilers for the Witcher 3 Wild Hunt and Hearts of Stone**

* * *

_Hamlet_ by William Shakespeare

"to my shame I see The imminent death of twenty thousand men, That for a fantasy and trick of fame Go to their graves like beds,"

* * *

His voice was unnaturally cold, his throat constricted from fear of the question he knew the answer to. His being here couldn't be purely adventitious. O'Dimm just smiled at him presumptuously with a patronizing stare, belittling him, Geralt hated that about him, that sense of always being one step ahead.

"Straight to the point I see. Is that any way to treat an old friend." He said, making a wide sweeping gesture with his arms as he took a step closer, standing right before the Witcher, fingers together, his eyes turning to Yennefer, who was still wrapped around Geralt's arm looking up at the unannounced guest uncertainly. Her reticent manner was uncharacteristic and somehow, unnerving. "Please, do introduce me Geralt, I would not dare to risk offending such a beautiful lady."

"I think we are acquainted with one another well enough, Master Mirror, so let's skip the pleasantries." She said callously, tossing her hair and smiling indifferently at him.

"Very well my lady," he answered, bowing again eyes never leaving her face, "of course I should have known that your beloved had recounted his fateful adventure to you, I imagine you've had much time to talk in Corvo Bianco. By the way, I must congratulate you on your wonderful garden Yennefer, the lilacs are truly stunning and the smell is superb, I can see why it is easy for you two to so often fall asleep there, under the stars. The scent reminds you of home, does it not? Tell me Ciri, is that why the flowers in the vase by your bed are always those picked from your mother's garden in Toussaint?"

The Enchantress didn't react to his gibe, she was used to people trying to play her for a reaction, being able to maintain an air of indifference, a mask of ice, was how you survived the political battlefield. But she couldn't keep the anger from her eyes which burned menacingly, especially when she felt the man beside her tense and Ciri gasp quietly behind her.

"Don't ask questions you know the answer to," said Yennefer scathingly, "it's tedious. Get to the point, or leave." The wandering merchant bowed his head to her, with sardonic excess, still smiling coldly, eyes as dark as the depths of the ocean.

"At once, my lady. Geralt, I've come to collect on a debt." The room was buzzing like a swarm of gnats, the mages were watching the display with mounting interest, but the air was thick with apprehension, people kept their distance from the figure instinctively. He reeked of death and misery.

"I don't owe you anything." Said the Witcher firmly and he felt Yennefer squeeze his arm and Ciri move up beside him, he drew strength from their presence.

"Oh, but you do Geralt," said O'Dimm, slowly picking up a cheese knife from a nearby table and running his fingers over the smooth surface of the blade, "and as you are well aware I always get what I'm owed, even if I have to take it by force."

Master Mirror dug the knife into the table with a thud which was instantaneously drowned out by Geralt's cry as he fell to his knees, howling like a wounded animal as razor sharp pain shot through his body as though millions of pins were piercing his flesh completely enveloping his senses, he didn't feel Yennefer wrap her arms around him, didn't notice her scent, didn't hear Ciri's cry. All he knew was pain. Unconscionable pain. Pain unlike anything he'd felt before, in those few seconds the pain he experienced extended beyond a lifetime of suffering, and beyond mortal understanding.

"I've come to collect your suffering, Geralt of Rivia." Said O'Dimm as he quickly pulled the knife free backing away from the group in surrender and throwing the blade at Ciri's feet as she took a step towards him. Geralt gasped for air, his body shaking as he clung to the Sorceress like a lifeline as she tried desperately to extinguish his pain, whispering tenderly in his ear and running a hand through his long hair.

"No." Hissed Geralt through bared teeth as he rose to his feet and helping Yennefer up before striding over to the merchant. "I won your little game O'Dimm, I don't owe you shit."

"Do you think I can be tricked by your lies?" He said angrily as his eyes flashed yellow and his usually passive features slowly transformed into a mask of pure contempt, unlike anything the Witcher had seen before. That more than anything filled him with fear. "You cheated! That's how you won, you cheated me, you must have. I can't have lost, no, no. Not again, no! I don't know how Geralt, but you did. You cheated me." His once elegant speech was becoming erratic, nigh on unintelligible, as though he was battling against himself, facing cognitive dissonance. Like he was teetering on the edge of self-control.

"I won fairly O'Dimm. I followed your rules, I solved the riddle. There is no debt." Shouted Geralt as he watched the Man of Glass walk away into the centre of the room with his back to him, the mages parting to the sides, compelled to move away by either self-preservation or something else.

"You, Geralt of Rivia, are a cheat!" The mysterious figure whirled around to face him, his skin drained of life to a ghostly white, his face as hollow as a skull, veins as black as midnight snaking over his face, yellow eyes searing from deep sockets like fire. He'd lost his balance, and descended into atavism. Death reincarnate. "You think you can break rules to get your way, well, two can play at that game, damn the consequences." O'Dimm clapped his hands. The sound echoed in the silence. Then hell broke loose. "I will teach you what it means to suffer, Geralt."

Clap. Yennefer let out a bloodcurdling scream collapsing into Geralt's arms, clutching her sides as green poison coursed through her blood like molten lava. Clap. Triss bent over double, her body wracked with violent coughs as she threw up blood and water which made her mouth burn. Clap. Eskel, Lambert, and Keira cried in pain as they hopelessly tried to snuff out the fire scorching their skin, the smell of burnt flesh making their stomachs churn. Clap. Zoltan and Dandelion were knocked to the ground, blood dripping from deep cuts and scratches marring their skin, they screamed in agony.

"In your mortal life, I will cling to you like a shadow and everything you touch will know pain. You shall live as one by one their life slowly ebbs away from their bodies, over days, weeks, years, centuries, and when misery finally breaks your heart, I will be waiting for you, for your soul so that your immortal life can suffer at my hands." Said O'Dimm, laughing maliciously as the screams pierced through the Witcher, shattering his heart into pieces like a dagger thrust into icy water.

"I have enough interruptions for this week." A streak of blue flame shot from Philippa's fingertips, hitting O'Dimm square in the back enveloping his entire body, the air around him shimmering from the heat like air from a furnace. The merchant didn't flinch, nor did his smile falter as he simply brushed the magic from his body as though wiping away dust, eyes flashing with amusement. He vanished. Geralt heard Philippa gasp.

"Pesky, foul thing." Said the Man of Glass, standing where the Sorceress had been only a moment before with an owl clasped in his hands by the feet, frantically flapping its wings as it swung through the air as the man walked back over towards the chaos. "Arrogant, even for a mage." He threw the bird against the wall and it bounced off, landing in a soup bowl on the table coating its feathers in a thick liquid, preventing the bird from flying free as it slipped around and ruffled its feathers, hooting dismally. "Do not interfere." He said, looking at the mages huddled against the sides of the room, too intrigued to move and too fearful to run. "I have an anathema for being interrupted. And what is the point of fighting me, Philippa Eilhart, what exactly do you think you're fighting for? Your desire will forever go unfulfilled, she will never look at you the way she looks at him, you know this, so why waste your time, because time is precious."

Yennefer buried her cries in Geralt's chest as he held her tightly, stroking her hair and holding her hands which radiated heat like hot metal, trying desperately to do something to ease her suffering. Ciri patted Triss on the back, holding back her hair as she struggled to breathe. Cerys and Hjalmar were trying to put out the fire burning the other Witchers and Keira, throwing jugs of water which Ermion conjured over them, but it simply evaporated on their scorching skin. Priscilla, Ves, and Roche were using cloth torn from the tables to halt Dandelion and Zoltan's bleeding, as blood gushed from their wounds like a fountain.

"You think this week has been a nightmare Witcher?" Taunted O'Dimm as he circled around the group as though admiring a wonderful flower bed, a masterpiece born from his own hands. "The cave, the fire, the storm, the assassins, but just you wait and see what it's like to live in constant fear, to always be looking over your shoulder, waiting for something to come for your loved ones, the bard, the dwarf, your two brothers, the two Sorceresses, and of course, your Yen. Since the day your Sorceress moved into Corvo Bianco, you've been afraid. Afraid that the peace was too good to last, how often has Yennefer complained to you that you're being overprotective, I wonder? You didn't even want to let her go to Novigrad alone. These past years you've been trying so desperately to save what you have, but you can't save her from me, Geralt. Just be glad that I cannot touch your child of destiny, but I assure you that once I am finished with you, once she has seen her friends, her Mother, suffer because of you, she will also be lost to you."

"Stop this!" Shouted Geralt as the small figure continued to shake and scream in his arms, tearing him to shreds. "Take my soul, and end this."

"And make this easy for you? I think not." Sneered O'Dimm. "Besides, I don't need your permission. I can take what I want, do as I please, and it makes me very happy indeed to witness how your soul bleeds as you watch their suffering. Helplessly. But…" The Witcher pulled the Enchantress closer as the merchant stopped in front of them, crouching down and peering into his narrowed eyes smiling. "I feel like having some fun today Geralt, to truly enjoy myself, so I'll give you a little hope." O'Dimm clapped his hands, the noise filling the silence as the screams and shouts ceased.

"Yen, are you alright?" Asked Geralt, brushing aside Yennefer's hair to look at her face, which was shining with cold sweat, she nodded at him as she tried to draw air into her starved lungs.

"Ready yourself Geralt, come try your luck against me." Said Master Mirror as he paraded egotistically around the centre of the room hands on his hips, soaking in the limelight as though this was all one marvellous spectacle to behold. Without a second's hesitation, Geralt kissed Yennefer on the cheek as he rose to his feet, walked away, ready to face death, to put himself between the figure and those he cared for.

"No." Said the Raven-haired Sorceress calmly, rising to her feet, head held high, shoulders back and her face comported menacingly, sparks dancing from her eyes as she gracefully strode over to Geralt. "You will not face him alone."

"Yen, no." He pleaded, holding an arm out to stop her.

"Geralt, not so long ago you told me that whatever hardship you face we share together, always. You did not let me face my burden alone, nor shall I, my love." Said Yennefer softly, lowering his arm.

"I think I'll take those odds." Said Ciri as the young ashen-haired woman stood on his other side, fists clenched as she stared at O'Dimm vengefully, rage surging through her veins.

"Yeah, I'm feeling lucky today." Jeered Eskel, nodding at his old friend, as he, Triss, Keira, Zoltan, and Lambert marched over, walking around the figure on the centre stage to stand opposite the others.

"We've had enough of Usurpers for a lifetime." Said Ves rolling her shoulders as she and Roche stood to the side of the circle, between the two groups.

"He's just asking for some Skellige steel." Boomed Hjalmar balling his fists as he, Cerys and Ermion stood across from the Temerians.

O'Dimm looked around the circle enclosing him, arms open in a wide gesture as though addressing an audience, smiling malevolently, eyes burning like coals.

"Your pain, your blood, sweat and tears stain his hand." Said O'Dimm spitefully, pointing to Geralt accusingly. "Yet you'll fight beside him in this pointless battle. You mortals are stupid, but who am I to deny you the chance to choke on your sentiment."

He brought his hands together, the applause sending a wave of force over the ground as though they were being buffeted by the wind, staggering backwards. When Geralt looked down his elegant clothing had been replaced by his Witcher armour and the familiar feel of two swords against his back. He saw Ciri unsheathe her sword out of the corner of his eye, felt his medallion vibrate as magic crackled on Yennefer's fingertips, he heard the rustling of armour and clanking of weapons as the group all stood battle ready, their finery replaced with the gear they used to survive. The fire in their eyes helped melt away his dread as he pulled his silver sword loose, its runes glowing with anticipation.

"Let's get this over with quickly." Said O'Dimm has he pulled an hourglass from one of his satchels, running his fingers against the glass, before flipping it over and slamming it into the ground causing the red grains of sand within to shudder and slip down one by one.

Twang. An arrow flew from Ves' bow soaring through the air as the others rushed towards the devilish figure patiently waiting for them. Just as the arrow was about to strike the side of O'Dimm's head he touched it with his finger and the projectile leapt to the side, circling around his head and shooting back the way it came. There was a scream as it pierced through Ves' shoulder burying itself in the stone, pinning her to the wall like insect held in a glass display, her bow clattering to the floor beside her.

Roche ran to her but fell to the floor with a thumb as hundreds of pieces of cutlery, prominently spoons, snaked around his ankles, melting together into a thick band of metal which moulded itself around his legs, pinning them together, burning his skin like a poker from a hot fire.

With his other hand, the Man of Glass threw a match stick behind him and a wall of fire erupted, cutting off Lambert and Eskel as the heat of the blaze burnt their eyes. Geralt slashed at his exposed chest but the man knocked the blow aside with his arms carelessly, it felt as though the silver blade was bouncing off stone. Before he could correct his balance O'Dimm struck with unnatural speed which dominated his own enhanced abilities, just as a fist was about to connect with Geralt's stomach he felt Yennefer's magic guarding his body as she erected a barrier around him, but even with the protection the blow hit him with such almighty power it sent him flying backwards twenty feet, landing in a heap on his back, severally winded.

As the Witcher almost knocked into her Ciri vanished, appearing behind the figure, but he seemed to sense her coming. He spun around catching her wrist as she tried to swing at him, his grip was cold sending shivers down her spine and making her hairs stand on end. Before she could react he seized the front of her shirt and threw her to the side as though she was as light as a doll and Ciri skid along the floor before she managed to nimbly roll into a crouching position and spring once more into action. But as she ran towards him she felt her movements begin to slow as cold leaked through her bones, locking them in place until she was frozen to the spot like a statue.

Keira managed to part the fire, and the two Witchers leapt through the gap, greeted on the other side by O'Dimm's cruel smile and maddening eyes. He clicked his fingers and Keira screamed in panic, clutching her eyes and leaning on Triss for support as the world around her went black, her eyes searing like coals, burning away her sight.

In perfect unison, the two men struck, their blades cutting into the merchant's body as though it wasn't there, going right through him. They didn't see him rematerialize between them until an unseen force hit them like a brick wall, pushing them in opposite directions as they were flung off their feet. Lambert wiped the dust from his eyes as he got to his feet, there was a horrendous crack, he looked up in horror as part of the ceiling collapsed plummeting towards him, burying him alive as Triss managed to prevent the rocks from crushing him.

Hjalmar's axe shattered as it smashed into O'Dimm's head, splintering like glass and a gloved hand shot out and grabbed him by the neck, lifting the warrior off the floor as he kicked and squirmed like a fish out of water, spluttering for air.

Dagger in hand Cerys leapt onto Master Mirror's back her arm raised as she plunged the weapon into his chest where it simply seemed to dissolve into his person like ice placed in a pool of boiling water. Sighing with boredom he reached up and seized the young women by her plait and flinging her over his shoulder and into the druid who was casting a spell to try and keep Hjalmar from suffocating, sending the pair smashing through the glass doors and onto the balcony.

Dropping Hjalmar to the floor unconscious, O'Dimm raised a palm to Triss who shot backwards with incredible force as though unseen ropes were pulling her. Instead of colliding with the wall her back smashed into the soft flesh of Eskel's stomach as he as leapt behind her, taking the force of the impact as they hit the wall. The Witcher crumbled to the floor with the Sorceress still in his arms.

As Zoltan hacked at the figure with his axe the man of Glass caught the blade in his hand and jerked it upwards, sending the dwarf on the other end flying into the sky with a shout, barely managing to grab onto the chandelier, his weapon clattering to the floor at the man's feet.

Overcoming the pain burning in his stomach Geralt ran at O'Dimm again, trying to block out the sight of bodies littering the floor around him like corpses on a battlefield. All of a sudden his vision was filled with searing red light as the stone floor around him became suddenly scorched and burnt, black chains springing from the ground, wrapping themselves around the Witcher's wrists, chests and legs, holding him in place like a chained animal as he thrashed about recklessly but to no avail, the metal digging painfully into his skin.

When he looked up Master Mirror was gone and he madly tried to search for the figure. Just to his right, he caught the man smiling sadistically at him, eyes brimming with pleasure, with an intensity to match the fires of hell as he appeared behind Yennefer, roughly grabbing her left arm pulling it behind her. There was a loud crack followed by a cry of involuntary pain as her arm was snapped, falling limply to her side as he let go, pushing her to the side where she landed on her broke bones screaming again, her face contorted with pain, her eyes losing focus.

"Hope is a dangerous thing." He said softly, as he strode casually over to the sand timer still in the centre of the room, picking it up just as the last red grain filtered to the bottom. He threw it at Geralt's feet. "Something born from misery and desperation. Dangerous because often, it comes to less than nothing."

Geralt tried to speak, he wanted to plead, to beg, he wanted to believe there was still something left, clinging to the remnants of hope to ward of the claws of dread ensnaring him. He couldn't stand the screaming, the cries of pain, the sight of his stultified friends, the smell of blood. Blood which stained his hands.

"You will not die here today, Geralt, nor will those who stood with you." O'Dimm purposefully walked over to him, footsteps reverberating in the silence as the mages dared not to even breathe. "But remember, until such a day as I decide to end your mortal life, I will always be with you. I am your reflection, the figure you will see every time you look into Yennefer or Ciri's eyes, the shadow which follows you in your waking hours and the nightmare that haunts your unconscious mind. You will know suffering like no other." He reached a hand out for his face, and Geralt felt his skin burn under his touch, the pain spreading down his body, branding his soul with the symbol of death. "And reflections, Geralt, cannot be escaped. A reflection is eternal." He withdrew his hand, slowly backing away, the bones in his gaunt face as sharp as his yellow eyes which seemed to see something beyond the man struggling before him.

O'Dimm spread his arms wide before gradually bringing his hands together, the final round of applause for his performance. But he stopped, palms inches apart, his written conclusion denied by a voice which rang in the eerie silence. The voice was soft and quiet but seemed to radiate cold determination which filled Geralt's heart with ineffable fear as the implication of their words sunk in like a pebble plummeting to the bottom of a frozen lake. Indescribable horror at the thought of what his debt could cost him.

"I offer my Soul for Geralt's freedom."

* * *

_The Bloody Chamber and other short stories_ by Angela Carter- **Chapter 13: Sacrifice**

"in his innocence he never knew he might be the death of me, although I knew from the moment I saw him."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys hope you enjoyed the latest chapter, at last, some answers but unfortunately no peace for Geralt but yet another excruciating cliff-hanger (sorry!). O'Dimm opens up so many possibilities, the epitome of creative freedom, and I'm having a lot of fun creating my interpretation of this devilish character.
> 
> As always feel free to PM me your thoughts or leave a comment, I love hearing from you. My thanks to vic-of-thor and daisyofgalaxy11 (Tumblr) for all the kind words and support and to korbel05 (Fanfiction) for all the feedback and suggestions.
> 
> Until next time guys, have a great week – Eileniessa


	14. Sacrifice

Warnings:

**Contains spoilers for the Witcher 3 Wild Hunt and Hearts of Stone and The Lady of the Lake**

* * *

_The Bloody Chamber and other short stories_ by Angela Carter

"in his innocence he never knew he might be the death of me, although I knew from the moment I saw him."

* * *

O'Dimm looked at the figure lying on the floor who had spoken, propping themselves up on one arm, their other dangling limply beside them, their face flushed with pain as they spoke, holding onto the remnants of consciousness, violet eyes blazing fiercely as Yennefer glared at the man striding over to her.

"You want to offer your soul to save this mutant?" Said O'Dimm with exaggerated astonishment, pointing at Geralt who was looking at the Sorceress with pleading eyes, but she avoided his gaze. "No, I must be mistaken, I must have misheard you, say it again, clearly please."

He smiled at her indifferently as she slowly and unsteadily got to her feet, biting her tongue to hold back her screams as her broken arm sent waves of pain through her body, but while her body was weak and fragile her spirit burned stronger than ever, eyes shining with passion and defiance. It filled Geralt with fear.

"I wish to make a deal with you Master Mirror," Said Yennefer confidently, trying to concentrate on her breathing as she expostulated with the figure looking at her with undeniable interest, and excitement, "I offer my soul in exchange for Geralt's, to clear his debt, to end this suffering." She cast her eyes over to Ciri, who was still frozen to the spot, her eyes fixed on Yennefer, wide with shock. "To save my family, and our friends."

"You do realize Lady Yennefer, that it is his grave mistake that has caused all this suffering, yet you ask to take his place, to suffer for eternity. You must explain to me why you would do such a thing, if you can." Said O'Dimm, standing right in front of her, fingers together his previous anger giving way to his usual calm state, his desire giving way to his love for deals. The colour began to return to his skin, the pulsating black veins covering his body faded away, his features became more commonplace, less gaunt, his eyes turned from yellow to brown. Once again he looked like an ordinary, unassuming merchant.

"Geralt once gave his soul in exchange for my freedom," said the Sorceress calmly, tossing her head of raven locks, "because he loves me, just as I love him." Master Mirror sighed dramatically, making a wide sweeping gesture with his arms as he stepped back, looking between Yennefer and Geralt.

"Ahhhh, of course, love." He said with a fake tone of sweetness, smiling with amusement as he strode over to the Witcher, taking the wolf medallion from around his neck, tutting at Geralt as he tried to struggle out of the bounds, to pounce on him like a wild animal, fury turning his eyes animalistic. "The drug of madness. What else, but love, could possibly make one do something as stupid and dangerous as this." He took one of the torches from the wall and stood in between the pair, in plain sight of both as he bought the flaming torch up to the medallion, engulfing it in fire.

Dark, pitiless eyes upon Geralt, O'Dimm smiled happily, studying his features, satisfying himself with the Witcher's guilt as Yennefer fell to her knees screaming in pain, her good arm clutching her head as incomprehensible pain drilled through her skull like maggots and worms festering in a carcass. After a few seconds he extinguished the torch, throwing it to the floor and placing the medallion back over Geralt's head as he watched Yennefer gasp for air, hair tumbling over her face, obscuring her torment from him as she fought back the unshed tears stinging her eyes so that when she raised her head again her features were once again comported obdurately, violet eyes glaring like lightning.

"That pain is but one way your soul will suffer in my domain for eternity if you make this deal." Said O'Dimm softly as he crouched beside the Sorceress who held her head high in the air, unable to stand. "Do you still wish to go ahead with your proposition, it's not too late, I'm feeling generous today."

"Yes." She answered clearly, her voice sharp but he just laughed.

"Must by love." Said the merchant wistfully, rising to his feet and clapping his hands. Yennefer felt her broken arm snap back together and strength seep into her weary bones as her breathing and heart slowed, she would have sighed with relief but didn't want to give him the satisfaction. "You are remarkably stubborn my dear," he said as she ignored the hand he offered to help her up, "that might have benefited you when dealing with Vilgefortz, but I promise you that, unlike him, I will break you. You understand that don't you?" She sneered at his patronizing expression, standing with her hands on her hips as though purchasing a mirror from any ordinary merchant.

"Yes, just as you understand perfectly well that you're not dealing with a blind village idiot who can't see the wood for the trees. So, stop asking questions you know the answer to, your tediousness is unflattering." She snapped at him, pleased to see his smile falter for a second before he bowed mockingly to her.

"Of course, Lady Yennefer. Until we settle on an agreement, however, there is one more complication to overcome." Said O'Dimm backing away from her and standing beside Geralt whose face was shining with sweat as he desperately tried to free himself, but the chains only clanked around him, tightening around him as though he was battling quicksand. He couldn't even call out to her, to ask her to stop, to plead, to beg. He was quickly sinking into utter desolation. "Why should I accept your deal? I do not crave your suffering, but the Witcher's, so why would I give up his soul?"

"Precisely because you'll get what you desire." Answered Yennefer pretentiously, gracefully walking over to him, staring into his yellow devilish eyes, avoiding everyone and everything else, focusing on her goal. "You intended to force Geralt to watch us die, slowly, one by one, to cause him pain, a pain you cannot inflict in his immortal life. I offer you something better. Take my soul, and you will force him to live the rest of his life knowing that someone he loves faces eternal pain. Pain which he will never be able to cure. Pain which will not end with his or my death. That burden is more harrowing than seeing death in the mirror." O'Dimm was silent, walking up and down, his fingers together, contemplating her words.

"Hmmm, a compelling argument." He said after several moments, standing in front of her, running his hand over the leather strap of the satchel slung across his chest. "It really is very hard to decide. To give Geralt a sense of hope, or hopelessness. Two equally dangerous and harmful states of mind. One final question Lady Yennefer, if you would please indulge my curiosity, this conversation is truly riveting, fascinating to say the least. A chance to understand you mortals better. I ask, what makes your suffering more painful than his own? You offer your soul, intent on following this self-destructive path because of the love you have for this man, I ask, does this extend both ways."

For a moment Yennefer seemed to smile sadly as she looked down at her left hand, and O'Dimm's smile widened. He saw it, of course. He understood perfectly well, but he enjoyed making a spectacle. He wanted her to say the words, to reveal the secret, a final act to make this tragedy rich with pathos.

"Yes," she said softly, "and the proof of his love is in the promises we've made." She raised her left hand to Master Mirror's eyes, muttering a spell which made her fingers shine like diamonds, and the figure gently took her hand, satisfied.

* * *

_The room was silent, its two occupancies absorbed in their own thoughts, apprehensive to share their worries, searching for the words to do so._

_Geralt perched on the edge of the bed, staring out of the window and over their estate now bathed in gentle moonlight, trying to clear his mind as the potions finally filtered from his body. He sighed. He'd never spent so much time away from the path, without a defining purpose to drive him forwards, without a goal to distract him from the worries plaguing his mind:_

_What if he hurt her, ruined what they had somehow? Could their peace last undisturbed? Could he give her what she wanted, what she needed? What if someone was trying to find him, to get him? A vampire perhaps? She could be at risk. Was he tying her down like a weight? Would she rather be in the court, with Ciri? He sighed._

_Yennefer's warm magic washed over him as she sat on the bed behind him, fingertips brushing against the wound on his shoulder as she slowly began to heal it, her eyes absently minded tracing the scars on his arms and back. She sighed. She's never spent so much time away from the court, without a defining purpose to drive her forwards, without a goal to distract her from the worries plaguing her mind:_

_Could she do this? Had she really changed, or was she going to hurt him? Were things too good to be true? Could she fulfill his desires and his needs? What if someone was searching for her? A mage, perhaps? He could be at risk. Was she forcing him to be something he's not? Would he rather be with another? She sighed._

_After several moments, when the Witcher's wound had been bandaged, the silence still an unbroken seal, Geralt took Yennefer's hand as he turned around, they looked at each other, they understood, and they embraced. The warmth of their bodies, their touch, their scent, drowning their worries with passion. The words came easily after that._

_Yen, I'm sorry I took the contract, and that I turned-down your help." Said Geralt softly, arms wrapped around her waist as she ran her fingers delicately over his bare arms. Then he sighed. "But after what happened last week-"_

_"Listen to me Geralt because I am getting bored of repeating myself," interrupted Yennefer gripping his jaw with her left hand and turning his gaze to her, "the attack on the vineyard wasn't your fault, nor was the fact that I got sick and delirious. It was my choice to risk that spell because I'm not some precious, petty Toussaint damsel who's made of glass and needs to be locked away and guarded because she's incapable of being, in any sense of the word, independent. Even if you hadn't agreed that wouldn't have stopped me so, would you kindly stop wallowing in this foolish misery."_

_He didn't comment. Instead, he continued to look at her as she sighed deeply her hand falling from his face as she rested her head against his chest, burying herself under his chin._

_"I understand, Geralt." She said more softly, placing one of her hands over the arms wrapped around her. "You shouldn't have to apologise for looking after me." There was another short silence._

" _It pains me to see you worried and upset like this, because of me, Yen. Because of who I am." He brushed aside some of the hair covering her face, placing a warm hand against the side of her face. "I'm worried I'll hurt you, that I'll ruin the peace we have, forever." Said the Witcher guiltily, afraid to look at his reflection in her violet eyes._

" _You could never hurt me, Geralt, because I know you love me too much to do so, and because I love the man you are too much to be hurt by you, never forget nor dare to doubt that." She purred, placing her small hand over his, leaning into his touch. "This is why I'm concerned for you just as you are for me, because," Yennefer hesitated for a moment, swallowing the fear as she watched her fingers tracing the Witcher's arms, finding one scar after the other, "because I'm afraid I'll lose you."_

_Gently Geralt took the hand hovering nervously over his scars and pulled into onto his chest, the gesture turning her gaze to his face as he brushed thumb affectionately over her cheek smiling at her warmly, kissing her lips and resting his forehead against her head._

" _You'll never lose me, Yen." He said softly, placing a finger on her lips as she tried to speak, eyes still lingering on her face, her eyes, as he reached over to the bedside table, opening one of the drawers and removing something from it. As he leant back into the Enchantress' warmth she saw a small black box in his hands. "Yen, will you take this as a promise, that I won't ever leave you, that you'll never be alone. A promise that I'll love you, forever." When he opened the box she gasped, eyes wide with surprise, Geralt smiled. "Yen, will you marry me?"_

" _Oh heavens, Geralt…" Yennefer said quietly, staring at the beautiful diamond encased in a silver star, two smaller diamonds embedded in the band on either side and next to them a small amethyst as violet as her dazzling eyes and a small pearl as black as her shimmering locks. "I…" She looked up from the ring at his beaming face, at the nervousness flashing in his eyes as he held out his heart on his sleeve, clutching the box tightly. She melted._

_Yennefer flung her arms around his neck as she kissed him passionately, taking him by surprise. Geralt chuckled as she pulled away, flushing slightly, alarmed with her own certainty as she uttered an answer she once thought unachievable._

" _Oh Geralt, Yes." He sighed in relief. The Witcher pulled the ring from the box and took Yennefer's left hand, carefully slipping it onto her finger_

" _I love you, Yen." Said Geralt softly, kissing her hand._

" _And I you. So, let me love you." Purred the Sorceress, slowly pushing him down onto the bed as he wrapped his arms around his fiancé, smiling._

_After a while, as the couple lay down in their bed, bodies entwined under warm covers, they held each other in silence, but this time lost in happy thoughts, the touch of their skin, their warmth, their smell, washing away worries as they stared at the ring on Yennefer's hand, placed lightly on Geralt's chest. It was a strange sight, a strange thought, the impossible made possible. Which is why it felt so right. As the Witcher was drifting off to sleep, his raven-haired beauty whispered in his ear._

" _I love you, Geralt. I accept this ring by making a promise, that I've chosen to be with the man you are and that I promise to love you, no matter what…"_

* * *

As the concealment charm covering Yennefer's hand lifted, the gems on her engagement ring sparkled in the light and she looked at it wistfully, absorbed in memories, as O'Dimm gently took her hand inspecting the ring as though this was the first time he'd seen it, and smiled at her, but it wasn't a happy or sympathetic gesture, it was a triumphant one.

"Geralt I must commend you on your taste, this ring is truly exquisite, a wonderful match for so beautiful a Lady. You've outdone yourself." He said cheerfully, looking at the Witcher who was still trying to catch the Yennefer's eyes, but to no avail.

"Let's get to the point, Master Mirror." Said the Sorceress coldly, taking back her hand and folding her arms. "Do we have a deal?"

The merchant turned his back on her, hand under his chin, his features acquiring a sense of deliberate contemplation as the room's face contracted into a brow of woe, the mages and the fallen listening attentively, captivated by the charm of his words, frozen in fascinated horror like a child witnessing death for the first time.

Philippa was still stumbling around in the soup bowl, splashing Dorregaray who was trying to pull the arrow from Ves's shoulder, carefully cutting his way through the arrow tip which has melted into the wall, Roche lying at her feet, passing her cloth to hold to her bleeding wound, his legs still stuck together.

Ciri's bones were still filled with an unnatural cold that locked them in place, cold air swirling around her as her panicked eyes darted around the room, her brow furrowed in concentration as she tried to call on her power, but her blood was frozen cold with fear.

Rita was holding Keira in her arms, trying to comfort the Sorceress as she clutched at her burning eyes, small embers wriggling through her fingers, fire scorching her throat so she couldn't even scream.

Several small stones tumbled down the stack of rock encasing Lambert as he tried to force his way back to the light, using his legs, fists, and signs to escape from his tomb. But the stones were piled high, as he fumbled in the dark.

Hjalmar was still lying on the floor in an unceremonious heap, completely unconscious, like a hibernating bear. Cerys and Ermion were trying to pick the glass from their body, the shattered fragments of the glass door eerily reflecting the moonlight, splintering its rays.

Triss was leaning over Eskel, holding his head in her hands, frantically muttering spells as the Witcher's eyes came in and out of focus, blood dripping from the back of his head as he sat slumped up against the wall.

Dandelion and Priscilla were holding a sheet out underneath the chandelier that Zoltan was still swinging on, staring up at the ceiling, refusing to listen to his friends pleads as he hung on stubbornly.

As O'Dimm walked, each footstep seemed to make the world around Geralt shake, the sound beating against his skull as fiercely as his own pounding heart. Blood was dripping from his skin, the stench of burnt flesh filling his nostrils as he continued to pull against the black chains holding him in place, slowly depriving him of hope, draining him of everything but pain. His body was consumed with anger and despair. His blood boiled burning his muscles which were screaming for release, to crush the life out of O'Dimm with his bare hands, his eyes glowing with hatred, but his heart was frozen solid ready to shatter at a single word. When his tormentor opened his mouth all he could do was pray.

"Lady Yennefer of Vengerberg, you offer your soul in exchange for Sir Geralt of Rivia's, to clear his debt." Master Mirror turned to the Sorceress, calmly walking over to her, smiling pleasantly, his face unassuming as he offered out his hand. "I accept."

The time and space around them flowed like thick honey from a jar. Each movement, each breath, each heartbeat excruciatingly slow, as the moment seemed to stretch into eternity, every detail amplified so that nothing would go unmissed.

Yennefer stared at the hand outstretched before her, ready to seal the deal, face indifferent to her bittersweet victory. Slowly she turned her head to Geralt and Ciri, trying to force a smile, but it was tinged with sadness, her eyes, full of cold determination, were glistening with tears of joy, fear, and anguish as she looked at their sorrowful faces. Her voice did not quiver as she spoke, holding its usual melodic, sarcastic and mischievous charm, it was strong but reserved. They watched as her lips moved, forming a farewell, it seemed distant, final, it was hard to comprehend.

"Farewell Ciri, my daughter, Geralt, my love. Please, forgive me, understand that I love you both, forever."

She forced herself away from their gazes and looked into O'Dimm's unnatural eyes, juxtaposed with his happy, commonplace face as he smiled at her. Yennefer lifted up her right arm as though wading through water, her delicate hand grasping his rough paw. Gaunter O'Dimm smiled at the Witcher. They shook.

Geralt's body became starved of hope, he was suffocating, there was nothing else left to keep him breathing as their words shot through him like daggers, shattering his heart as though it were made of glass, breaking it into thousands of tiny pieces which made his soul bleed, for his heart was lost.

As their hands touched her body shimmered in the light, her ruffled shirt and leather trousers replaced by her beautiful dress, hair tumbling neatly around her, once again Geralt's stunning fairy-tale Princess, the woman of his dreams, before that dream had contorted into this nightmare.

Then, on the back of her right hand, still locked with the merchant's, Yennefer's skin began to burn, its smooth surface marked with a hideous brand carved into her flesh, a rune which severed her soul from her body. The demon nodded at Geralt and departed with his prize.

Her body crumbled like the withered rose of a long-lost love, petals drained of colour and life, fierce violet eyes dulled and glossy as she fell backwards, hand still outstretched as she was released from his grip as slowly their guardian angel plummeted from the heavens, her empty vessel cold and stiff, deprived of more than just life, her body hit the floor with a soft thud, a doll discarded now the fun was over, completely lifeless.

Geralt searched through the silence. Desperately he sought for her. Strained his ears to listen for her presence. To the rhythmic melody which calmed him. He didn't realise how much he needed it, how much he missed it because now there was a void. Her heart was still. Her presence was gone. Her body was empty, deprived. Yennefer was dead. Worse than dead. She had died from a promise, a promise to love him forever. Silence reigned eternally.

* * *

 _The Raven -_ Edgar Allan Poe **,** **Chapter 14: Grief**

Then, methought, the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer

Swung by Seraphim whose foot-falls tinkled on the tufted floor.

"Wretch," I cried, "thy God hath lent thee—by these angels he hath sent thee

Respite—respite and nepenthe from thy memories of Lenore;

Quaff, oh quaff this kind nepenthe and forget this lost Lenore!"

Quoth the Raven "Nevermore."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please don't hate me… :'(
> 
> PS: Sorry this is update is a couple hours later than usual, got back later than expected.


	15. Grief

Warnings:

**Contains spoilers for the Witcher 3 Wild Hunt**

* * *

_The Raven -_ Edgar Allan Poe

Then, methought, the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer

Swung by Seraphim whose foot-falls tinkled on the tufted floor.

"Wretch," I cried, "thy God hath lent thee—by these angels he hath sent thee

Respite—respite and nepenthe from thy memories of Lenore;

Quaff, oh quaff this kind nepenthe and forget this lost Lenore!"

Quoth the Raven "Nevermore."

* * *

Geralt fell to his knees as the chains encircling his wrists, chests and legs vanished, the only trace of their existence in the burn marks and cuts on his skin which wracked his body with pain, to which he was oblivious. Uncaring. He quickly scrambled to his feet like a rabbit frantically fleeing from a snare, taking three short, quick strides over to the figure lying on the floor, ignoring the signs of his body pleading with him to stop as his wounds bled and his muscles screamed. He sank to his knees beside her.

"Yen…" He whispered as he gently scooped up Yennefer's body from her stone-cold death-bed, cradling her in his arms like a baby, her head lolling back, eyes staring up at the ceiling, unblinking. "Yen, please…" Begged Geralt, his voice cracked. He ripped off one of his leather gloves with his teeth, tenderly placing a hand against Yennefer's face, the feel of her unnaturally cold skin sending shivers up his arm.

He wanted to believe this was a cruel trick. That O'Dimm or one of the mages was meddling with his mind, forcing him to live this nightmare, but an illusion nevertheless. He needed to believe it, because he needed this to stop. This was one end he couldn't accept.

Ciri hastily dropped to her knees opposite them, emerald eyes as wide as saucers, breathing fast and panicked, her hands flailed about nervously over the body. She desperately tried to seek reassurance, but Geralt couldn't bring himself to look at her, to see his mistake written across her face. Instead, with his hands buried in her head of raven locks, he slowly brought up her face, which was turned up to the heavens, to search for the sign which no amount of magic could replicate or change.

One of the things Geralt adored about Yennefer the most were her eyes, not only the vibrant colour which was as warm and inviting at it was sharp and menacing, but because they acted as a window. Crystal eyes sparkling and shining in the light with joy. Burning eyes flashing dangerously with anger. Rain-washed eyes as cold as the darkness which cloaked their sadness. Violet eyes which were full of life, a window into her soul. Now her eyes were empty, as barren as a wasteland. There was nothing to peer at anymore. His worst fears were confirmed. Ciri let out a sob.

"No." Mouthed Geralt, unable to form the words. "No…" He rested her head against his chest, one hand hugging her tightly the other brushing her hair as he buried his face in the top of her head, absorbing her scent of lilac and gooseberries. He rocked the Enchantress back and forth in his arms, as though trying to soothe her fears and pains, but there was no comforting a corpse.

"Mother." Moaned Ciri quietly, her hand shakily and slowly reaching for Yennefer's and as she grasped it in her own she bought a hand up over her mouth. "No, Mother please don't leave me, I need you. No…" Tears began to streak down her face as she gripped the cold hand tightly searching her guardian's face as though waiting for Yennefer to smile at her reassuringly, sarcastically yet kindly mocking her for fretting, telling her that everything would be alright, but there was no support from a corpse. She ran her thumb over the back of Yennefer's hand, feeling the rune burnt into her skin. "Nooooooooo!"

Ciri tossed her head back, her scream shrill and haunting. A pulse of blue light erupted from the young woman, the glass around the room exploded outwards with an almighty smash, several of the mages backed away from her in fear. Geralt felt the cry rip into him, wrenching his mind from his own suffocating sorrows.

"Ciri." Said Geralt softly, gripping her shoulder and shaking her. She snapped her head back to him, black makeup staining her face as tears dripped off her chin and as their eyes met, he saw how lost she was, he saw his own reflection. For once, he didn't have the words to comfort her. The Witcher pulled Ciri to him, wrapping an arm around her as she hung to his neck, still gripping Yennefer's hand, cocooning the body safely between them. They didn't want to let go.

The room was in a state of abeyance, respectfully still and silent, heads bowed, hands together, wary of the personal scene, many of the mages looking away guiltily, their doubts and snide remarks about the fallen stinging their mouths. They'd faced death before, they'd felt excruciating pain, but they knew that nothing could compare to what awaited Yennefer.

Triss was kneeling on the ground nearby, face buried in her hands as Eskel held an arm around her shoulder, eyes full of sorrow as he stared at his brother. Lambert was leaning on a wall averting his eyes and fiddling nervously with his medallion, holding Keira's hand as the Sorceress held a hand to her mouth. Dandelion had taken off his hat, its feather rustling in the wind from the smashed-out windows behind them as he hugged Priscilla who had tears running down her face. Rita looked completely shocked, absent-mildly rubbing the back of her neck while Fringilla felt her skin tighten around her as she looked at the Witcher and the fallen figure regretfully. Philippa was leaning against the edge of a table for support, staring at Yennefer while soup dripped from her dress and plaits, pooling on the floor around her.

Geralt lost track of time, he didn't know if they'd been sitting there for seconds, minutes or hours, it didn't seem to matter anymore. Every moment was filled with pain. Gradually he let go of Ciri who pulled her head up from his shoulder which was now wet with tears, her eyes red and puffy, her breathing uncontrolled as she struggled to breathe through her sadness, her body spasmed with sobs, but as she met his eyes she understood, nodding.

Geralt closed his eyes and took a deep breath, squeezing Ciri's hand. He looked at Yennefer's expressionless face, it took all his strength to keep his hand steady as he reached out towards her, gently closing her eyes, forever hiding their lost beauty.

"I love you, Yen." He said faintly, gently rubbing his thumb across her cheek and placing a tender kiss on her forehead. He always used to do that when she fell asleep in his arms.

As he pulled away Ciri kissed Yennefer on the cheek and brushed a few strands of black hair from her face, sniffling. Instinctively she went to dry her face with her sleeve but stopped herself, mother hated that. She looked at Geralt again and nodded, letting go of the Sorceress' hand, laying it to rest on her stomach and she slowly got to her feet, feeling a warm hand on her arm guiding her up. Ciri looked at the handkerchief being offered to her taking it from the owner's small hand before she looked up at Triss' tear-streaked face. They both let out an indistinguishable murmur before they embraced.

With painstaking care, so as not wake her or so much as unsettle a single strand of her hair, Geralt rose to his feet, calling on the last of his strength to carry her to her rest, away from these gawking, undeserving eyes. He wanted to take her home, to their quiet unassuming vineyard to recover. He wanted to carry her into their house, locking the door behind them, sealing the world out. He wanted to gently lay her down on their bed and place a soft kiss on her lips as he lay down beside her, to watch over her as she slept, to join her. She needed peace.

"Geralt," said Philippa delicately, standing beside him, her skin slightly orange from the soup which had mostly disappeared from her person, "please, follow me."

"No." He said stubbornly, his body shivering at the thought of laying the fragile woman in his arms down to sleep in a morgue. "I don't want to tak…Yen, Yen doesn't like the cold or the dark. It, it gives her nightmares." The Witcher expected some sarcastic riposte or farcical remark from the Sorceress, but even this piece or normality was denied to him. Philippa's captious nature had eluded her, she was showing empathy.

"I understand. I promise she will rest well and comfortably, please, follow me Geralt." She answered immediately, in a calm voice and manner, without the slightest trace of mockery or judgment. As she was about to turn away she hesitated for a moment and whispered something sadly and so quietly that only Geralt's special hearing could pick it up. "Yenna deserves the best, she always has."

The audience quickly parted for them, bowing their heads, lowering their eyes as the congregation passed. There wasn't a single whisper or stare as Geralt followed the headmistress from the room, Ciri close on his heels, eyes fixed on the back of Yennefer's head as she and Triss clung to each other for support, tears flowing freely with no shame. Anything to help give them release.

* * *

They were lead to a small circular room filled with warm yellow light from the crystals glowing on the walls, a thick red rug covered most of the floor and in the centre, was a luxurious four poster bed, with soft feather sheets and pillows fit for royalty. Other than a few chairs and two small tables on either side of the bed upon which an empty vase sat, the room was empty, but by no means did it feel barren, as the stone walls and ceiling formed a beautiful mural of the North's constellations, Geralt took one look at it before nodding at Philippa and entering. Yen would like it in here, he thought, they used to spend hours learning the stars in Toussaint, falling asleep under their wonder. She could rest well here.

The door was shut behind them, leaving Yennefer alone at last. Ciri and Triss stood to one side as the Witcher lowered the body carefully onto the bed, the sheets slagging ever so slightly under her dead weight. Delicately Triss rearranged the black and white dress and put Yennefer's hands together with her own unsteady fingers, the left over the right, to cover up the burn.

"Gors Velen…" said Geralt softly as he looked at the serene figure lying on the bed, watching the ring sparkle, a painful lodestone for his eyes. "We were going to tell the news at Gors Velen because… it was the first time we said it. I love you." He slowly began to back away from the bed with tiny footsteps, face contorted with misery, mouth hanging slightly open, brows raised, yellow eyes opened wide. "And that love killed her. She died because she loved me because she promised to always love the man I was, despite everything." He raised a hand to his medallion, clutching it tightly, drawing blood which trickled down the hungry wolf's head. He felt as though it was strangling him. "I killed her!"

Hatred flashed across his face like a burst of lightning, his features terrifyingly atavistic as he pulled the medallion from his neck and threw it with all his strength across the room as far away from the bed as possible and it hit the wall with a spark, before clattering to the floor. The movement seemed to drain him.

"I killed her." Geralt whispered dismally, the hands pulling at his white hair fell limply to his side as he staggered backwards, his back hitting the stone wall. "What have I done…" He buried his face in his hands as the last remnants of energy left him, and the weight of grief slammed into him as he slid down the wall, descending into torment. "Yen, I'm sorry. I'm sorry…"

Triss gasped as the medallion clattered against the stone, but Ciri only watched indifferently as the Witcher slumped to the floor as she leant against one of the bed's posts before turning her back on him, sitting on the edge of the bed, arm wrapped around the post and as she rested her head against it fiddling with the silver swallow hung around her neck. She couldn't help him now, she couldn't comfort him, persuade him that this wasn't his fault. Because she blamed him. Ciri knew it was wrong, but she wanted something to be angry at, it made the sorrow taste less bitter when there was someone to fault.

The Sorceress looked at them sadly, the Pollyanna within her was gone, she didn't know how to heal a wound like this, especially when her own heart bled. She sniffed, Yennefer would have known what to do, how to bury her own grievances to guide them from their sorrow, but she'd gone far away and Triss couldn't even help her now by aiding those she had left behind. Wearily she sat on the floor beside the young woman, resting her back against the bed, tears stinging her eyes.

They sat there for the rest of the night, absorbed in their own depression without the strength to reach out to the others while Yennefer slept under the stars.

* * *

Ciri disappeared in a flash of blue the next morning, careful not to wake the auburn-haired woman sleeping beside her, dried tears still staining her pretty face. Before she left she glanced at Geralt who was still sitting beside the bed completely drained of colour, head resting on the wall, eyes staring across the room but without truly seeing it, he clearly hadn't slept at all. Ciri caught his eye as she rose to her feet and he briefly turned to her and nodded slowly, turning his head back as she vanished.

About an hour later Triss awoke sighing as she stretched her stiff muscles and rubbed her temples, head lowered.

"Where's Ciri?" She asked quietly, trying to wipe away the dried tears with the back of her hand as she cautiously approached the Witcher.

"Needed air." He replied without looking at her, still staring at something fascinating that only he could see. Triss sighed, She was scared. She'd never seen him like this, so preoccupied with his own pain that he couldn't spare a thought for someone else, couldn't try to make their pain easier. She never seen him so, defeated. Lost.

"Geralt, let's get something to eat." Offered the Sorceress kindly but he shook his head. "Geralt, you look exhausted, please." She pleaded, holding her hand out to him.

"No thank you, Triss." He answered in a low voice, turning his gaze to her, his yellow eyes dulled and empty. "I'm fine, you go." He looked away and Triss felt her hand tremble.

"Geralt, please…"

"No." He snapped coldly, making her step back in surprise, gasping soundlessly.

Quickly she turned on her heels and briskly walked out of the room, with her eyes lowered to the floor she almost ran into Dandelion as she pushed through the door.

"Triss…" Said the bard quietly, gripping the Sorceress by the shoulder as he saw tears welling in her eyes. She opened her mouth to speak, but shook her head and brought a hand to her mouth, gently brushing him off and disappearing down a corridor, out of sight. Dandelion looked at Eskel and Zoltan uncertainly before taking a deep breath and stepping into the room.

* * *

Many people came to pay their condolences and to offer their support, but nobody could convince Geralt to leave Yennefer's side. He continued to sit by the body, completely lifeless, barely able to mutter so much as a 'thank you'. He didn't touch the food people bought him, he didn't move and he only watched on as some of the Lodge tried to conceal the new scar on Yennefer's hand, but with no success. At times, he didn't even seem aware of the people sitting in the room with him. He didn't seem at all like the White Wolf they knew.

As the evening came Ciri finally returned, striding right over to one of the vases beside the bed and placing a bunch of lilacs in it, he knew at once that they were from the garden in Corvo Bianco. They always were. In the other vase, beside Geralt, she placed a bunch of different flowers, all white, black and purple and he couldn't name any of them. Ciri must have travelled far.

When the ashen-haired woman had finished rearranging the plants she sat down next to him and he turned to her as she flung her arms around him as they embraced, her misgivings and rage washed away by her travels. Mother would want them to be there for each other.

"Get some air Geralt," She said softly as they pulled apart, "please." She gently squeezed his hand, flushing some colour back into his pale skin. He nodded, wearily rising to his feet, muscles stiff and sore. He leant over the bed and kissed the top of Yennefer's head before leaving the room for the first time in almost a day, leaving Ciri alone with her thoughts as she spoke to the resting figure about her worries.

* * *

" _I can't stand it any longer!" The voice boomed through the silence surrounding Corvo Bianco. Yennefer chuckled under her breath._

" _As unexpected as ever." She said, placing the book down on the table beside the comfortable bench, careful not to knock over the cool glass of wine residing on it. "What's wrong?"_

_She turned her vibrant violet eyes on the young woman briskly walking down the steps past several workers who seemed completely unperturbed by the fact that she had appeared from thin air. They were used to it by now._

" _I'm not getting anywhere, I can't do it!" Replied Ciri angrily, resting her hands against the small stone wall overlooking the lovely little garden, her back to the Enchantress. "There's always something wrong, Phillipa and the Emperor are never satisfied. I give up." Her knuckles whitened as she gripped the stone tightly, brow furrowed in frustration. For a moment Yennefer was silent, measuring up the younger woman in a single glance._

" _Come here, child." She said patiently, patting the space beside her._

_Ciri sighed, swallowing the fire burning her throat, slowly turning around and walking over. As she sat down Yennefer pulled her into a hug and Ciri let go of her fury bubbling inside her, burying her face in the soft black locks and the loving scent of lilac and gooseberries, one of the most comforting places in the world._

" _You don't have to do this if you don't want to, nobody can make you do anything Ciri." Said Yennefer softly after a while, smiling warmly at her as they pulled apart. "If this is not what you want, then leave the court, I'm sure Emhyr would understand and if not, well, I'm sure I can 'reason' with him." She laughed quietly as the young woman smiled at her, shaking her head, well aware of what this reasoning would consist of._

" _But," said Yennefer, gently cupping her chin and raising her gaze, "you do have to believe in yourself, Ciri, because I know my daughter is capable of anything." Her voice was kind but serious, eyebrows raised in a slightly mocking stare which was not belittling but rather, sympathetic. "The Emperor asks a lot of you because he has high expectations, expectations which I know you are perfectly capable of reaching, and you should never let Philippa get to you. She's testing you, she's trying to disparage you because then it will be easier for her to have her way, to ensure the Lodge's wishes, but I have no doubt that you will soon put her in her place because you are strong and you're stubborn."_

" _Like mother like daughter, as Geralt likes to say." Chuckled Ciri, feeling a hundred times lighter as Yennefer's words lifted her spirits, melting away the worry which burdened her._

" _Hmmmmm, yes, but apparently only ever when you do something wrong or when he doesn't get his way." She said amusedly, tucking a stray piece of ashen-hair behind Ciri's ear. "But our wise Witcher it right. When I was young I wanted to give up, to throw everything in, to give up on life, because like you I didn't think I had the strength to carry on, or the capacity to complete what was required of me." Her features softened as she fiddled with the obsidian star hung around her neck, staring over the garden for a moment, lost in thought and nostalgia, Ciri listened attentively, understanding the gravity of her words from her mannerisms. "But Tissaia de Vries believed in me and never gave up on me, even when I'd given up on myself. Without her, I wouldn't be here, she taught me that anything is possible, you simply have to have faith in yourself, just as others do." She turned to the ashen-haired woman, the sad smile on her face radiating warmth and sincerity as she delicately ran a hand over Ciri's cheek. "Just as I believe that you can strive to be more than Emhyr and Philippa could ever imagine."_

" _Thank you, Mother." She said cheerfully, hugging the Sorceress again._

" _Anything for you Ciri." She replied as they rose to their feet and walked out into the garden as was custom._

_Yennefer picked several flowers, a lilac among them, whispering a spell under her breath to help preserve the precious plants before handing them to the young woman, kissing her on the forehead as she sent her child back out into the world, now enlightened by her Mother's faith._

* * *

Ciri peered through bleary eyes at the tiny green garnet clutched in the claws of the mesmerizing swallow, the necklace shaking in her trembling hands as she perched on the end of Yennefer's resting place.

"I promise I won't give up, never." She whispered to the figure, her voice brimming with quiet confidence, determination. "I promise I won't let you down Mother, I love you."

* * *

_If Tears Could Build a Stairway –_ Unknown:  **Chapter 15, Goodbyes**

No farewell words were spoken,

No time to say "Goodbye".

You were gone before I knew it,

and only God knows why.

My heart still aches with sadness,

and secret tears still flow.

What it meant to love you -

No one can ever know.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys, hope you liked the update and that the wait wasn't too painful. I almost started crying writing this there were actual tears in my eyes, this was a very difficult chapter to get through but I promise things will get better, trust me!
> 
> There is a fluffy one-shot hopefully in the works, to help relieve some of the pain, but it might be a while. I got my results (A levels: A in English Literature, A in Geography and B in Biology) a couple of days ago and got into my top uni (I'm so excited) but that does also mean I now have a lot to do…(also lots of parties 0-0) but in the meantime check out my Tumblr to read the fan fiction on Yen and Geralt I wrote while drunk xD
> 
> As always feel free to PM me your thoughts or leave a comment, I love hearing from you. My thanks to vic-of-thor and daisyofgalaxy11 (Tumblr) for all the kind words and support and to korbel05 (Fanfiction) for all the feedback and suggestions.
> 
> Until next time guys, have a great week – Eileniessa


	16. Goodbyes

Warnings:

**Contains spoilers for the Witcher 3 Wild Hunt and Hearts of Stone**

* * *

_If Tears Could Build a Stairway –_ Unknown

No farewell words were spoken,

No time to say "Goodbye".

You were gone before I knew it,

and only God knows why.

My heart still aches with sadness,

and secret tears still flow.

What it meant to love you -

No one can ever know.

* * *

Geralt didn't want to be gone from Yennefer's side for long. He knew that she would be safe with Ciri but with each step he took that put distance between them it became harder and harder to keep walking forwards, as though his essence was tied to her and the further away he was, the stronger the pain and guilt became as the chain tightened around him urging him back.

He instantly felt bad for leaving her, she needed him now more than ever, she always did when she slept. Only in the late hours, when the sky was dark and the moon shone in the sky did Yennefer truly need someone beside her, because it was in her sleep that she was vulnerable. Geralt felt remorse whenever he was away from her side at night, and when he slept beside her he made sure never to get up until she was awake and safe from the demons of her subconcious. He couldn't let her face the nightmares alone, he wanted to give her peace.

It wasn't a frequent occurrence, but each night, when he awoke to her terrified screams and thrashing, bed sheets knotted around her, when he had to gently hold her down and watch her violet eyes shining with fear, her heart beating frantically as she gasped for air, struggling to breathe through the panic choking her, the memory stuck in him like a shard of ice, painfully distinct, and the thought of Yennefer waking up alone, without him beside her to whisper tenderly in her ear, to brush away the hair clinging to her face, to wrap his strong arms protectively around her, to kiss the top of her head and to send her back to sleep, was an ineffable thought.

It was a thought almost as painful as the Witcher's own fear, the fear of waking up without his raven-haired beauty locked in his embrace and the scent of lilac and gooseberries to lull him back to safe dreams as he listened to her heart to calm his mind, as she placed affectionate kisses on his jaw, lightly running her fingers over his scars, violet eyes shining with a comforting warmth as she spoke softly to him, her words reassuring his worries as much as her presence. He was afraid of waking up alone.

Hastily he walked around the outside of the school, the gentle crashing of waves and the light sea breeze, once so inviting were now meaningless, he no longer felt touched by the moonlight shimmering off the beautiful blue water, he saw only nothingness. Geralt headed back to their room, he didn't want fresh air or a change of scenery, he just wanted wash and change out of his Witcher gear, to remove the smell of death and decay from his body, to wash away the blood staining his skin, so he could return to her side, comforting her, promising that he'd never leave her.

When Geralt reached the door he hesitated, leaning against the door frame as he took several deep, steadying breaths, before he slowly opened the door. He felt her presence there, he saw her figure in the room, a ghostly apparition conjured by his grieving mind.

She sat at the table, arranging her cosmetics neatly in a beautifully carved box on the dresser, a present from Ciri for her birthday. She opened the trunk at the end of the bed handing him one of the several bottles of wine from their vineyard which made his medallion hum, their taste magical enhanced by her careful spell work. She rifled through the black and white contents of the wardrobe in nothing but her undergarments. She sat with her legs outstretched on the bed, laughing as she read him passages from the book that had been lent to her by a young girl, the daughter of one of Corvo Bianco's workers, who she had saved from a terrible fall.

He closed his eyes as he stepped into the room, unable to look at the scene, to comprehend the closeness of Yennefer's presence when she was so far away. He removed his two swords and armour, placing them in his own trunk so they would be out of her sight, before removing a fresh shirt and pair of trousers from the dresser.

As he was about to leave, he saw something in the corner of his eye, something out of place in this pristine setting, something that hadn't been there before. There was a small wooden box sitting on his pillow. Hesitantly he walked over, perching nervously on the edge of the bed as he took the box in the palm of his hand and slowly lifted back the lid.

Two rings were cushioned inside, simple silver bands, he recognized them at once as their wedding bands. Yennefer had pleaded with him to allow her to get them, she wanted to make them special, just as Geralt had done with her engagement ring, he was happy to oblige her, smiling at the excitement in her eyes. But as he reached out for the smaller ring his features looked as though they were carved from stone, a lifeless mask of sorrow.

Very carefully he held the ring between his fingers, examining it. On the band, arranged in a circle, were three small gems, one white, one black and one violet, on the inside of the ring were the words ' _Forever Your Geralt'_ and on the outside, carved into the silver, was the promise he made that night, ' _I promise that I won't ever leave your side, that you'll never be alone and that I'll love you forever'._

He closed his hand around Yennefer's wedding band, bringing the fist up to his mouth as he shut his eyes, apprehensively reaching for the larger ring.

It was almost identical to hers, three gems arranged in a circle, one white, one black and one yellow, on the inside the words  _'Forever Your Yen'_  were delicately carved and on the outside, the promise which had taken his love,  _'I promise that I chose and love the man you are and that I'll love you forever'._

He felt as though the rings were burning a hole in his hand and he quickly put them back, slamming the lid shut the box shaking in his hands, but he couldn't put it down. Geralt ran out of the room with the box still clasped tightly in his grip. _Your Yen…_

* * *

_I promise…_  He emerged at the top of the tower out of breath, the starlight lying as fragments on the floor as its light splintered in the glass dome. It felt like another lifetime ago when they were all here together, enjoying the night sky. Geralt rested his head against the cold glass dome, his warm breath misting up the panels like the fog clouding his mind.

_I chose and love the man you are…_ He stared out over the school watching as the lights began to flicker and die, the grounds consumed slowly by the night. He wasn't sure why he had come here, until he felt a slight breeze tickling the back of his skin as though someone was breathing down his neck, calling him. He pushed open the glass door stepping out onto the balcony, the cold night air embracing him welcomingly as he leant against the stone railing, looking out into the enchanting darkness around him.

_I'll love you forever_ …He swung his legs over the stones, precariously sitting on the railings, feet dangling into the nothingness below. The Witcher placed the box beside him, pulling out the two rings and running his fingers over the smooth metal, lost in thought as he repeated the inscription in his head, over and over, the words becoming more and more painful with each blow.

_Your Yen…I promise…I chose and love the man you are…love you forever…forever….man you are…Your Yen…love you…I promise…love the man you are…I'll love you forever…Your Yen…forever…_

If he could have screamed, then even the Gods would have heard his cry. Geralt threw the rings into the night sky, burying his head in his hands as the wedding bands and the promises fell out of sight. The wind was blowing fiercely around him now, but he didn't care anymore, surely death would be better than this abysmal suffering. Perhaps he should just let himself fall and be consumed by the darkness. He never got the chance to make up his mind.

Eyes lowered he didn't notice the figure shooting towards him until he heard the flapping of wings and looked up at outstretched claws and a blur of feathers as sharp talons dug into his hair, pulling him backwards, over the railing where he landed on his side on the stone balcony, glaring at the owl which landed inside the dome.

"What the hell Philippa!" Shouted Geralt clutching his head as he got to his feet snarling at the Sorceress who emerged before him. "What are-"

"Don't you dare do this Geralt!" She screamed cutting him off and taking him by surprise as she got right up in his face, jabbing a finger painfully into his chest. "Don't you dare throw this all away, all that Yenna has given you!"

"Leave me alone." He grunted irritably trying to turn away but she quickly blocked his path, forcing his back up against the dome with nowhere to go.

"No!" The Witcher was shocked by the sheer look of anger she was giving him, her hands balled into shaking fists. "I won't let you throw this all away, you idiot!"

"Throw what away?!" He contorted, eyes narrowing dangerously. "You don't know anything Philippa, you couldn't possibly understand you're shit at empathy. Leave me."

"Pull your head out of your own ass Geralt, do you honestly think you're the only one who lost something last night!?" She said coldly.

"But nobody else can say they killed her, nobody else has to live with that guilt." He grunted quietly, but the Sorceress only looked at him exasperated, his words fuelling her rage.

"For someone who's supposed to have superhuman senses, Witcher, you are remarkably fucking blind!" She shouted and he bared his teeth nastily at her. "How long have you known her, hmmm? Long enough to know that no one can make Yenna do something she doesn't want to. So, stop wallowing in your pathetic misery like a pig rolling around in its own shit and realise that you're not only throwing your life away but Yenna's and Ciri's."

"What are you talking about?" Asked Geralt, confused by her sudden change in tone as Philippa's voice seemed to crack ever so slightly. The headmistress considered him for a moment, stepping back slightly as her features became less sharp and intimidating.

"Yenna loved you Geralt. She chose to save you, because she valued your life before her own, how many people can claim to have a love like that? I'll be damned if you don't make the most of her sacrifice, I won't let Yenna die in vain, Geralt. Go, and don't let me see you up here again." She replied calmly, watching him with her arms folded across her chest.

The Witcher shot her another reproachful look before disappearing back down the steps, leaving Philippa alone with her thoughts as she leant against the stone railing, staring out over the school, unusually indifferent to the cold night air which stung against her bare arms.

* * *

By the time he got to the baths it was completely empty, peaceful. He quickly threw off his clothes and sunk into the warm water, emerging himself underneath for several minutes helping to relax his body as he mulled over what Philippa had said. Her words rung true.

Geralt became aware of how selfish he was being, how narrow-minded, so content to be wound up in how own suffering that he almost risked giving in and making her death worthless. Yennefer would want him to carry on, to be there for Ciri, to make the most out of his second chance. He felt stupid.

' _I love you both, forever'_. Her last breath. Was this any way to repay her. To drown in grief, to squander his life away, to abandon their daughter when she needed him most. How could he have thrown them away? He sighed. He'd search for the rings in the morning, but for now, he needed to emend things with Ciri, to start putting his life back together before it broke beyond repair.

* * *

As he flung open the doors to the small room he stopped, Ciri was sleeping on a sofa which had been pushed up close to the bed and sitting at her feet was Philippa, who was gently placing a blanket over the young woman. He carefully walked over to them, the soft rug absorbing his footsteps and he thought the Sorceress hadn't noticed him as she looked at the woman lying on the bed, but then she spoke.

"Don't throw this all away. Remember the promise you made, Yenna might not be here, but she still needs you beside her, Geralt." Turning her gaze to the Witcher she handed him two silver rings, dropping them into the palm of his hand. The wedding bands. He held them tightly in his grip.

He remembered her stunned face as he opened the box and the way she flung her arms around his, ecstatically speaking the answer he'd long awaited. He remembered her brilliant smile as he candidly complimented her and her melodic laugh as they joked about Ciri. He remembered her charming and sarcastic voice as she kindly mocked his fretting, and her soft tone as she tenderly whispered her love. He remembered her happy violet eyes, gazing at the ring as they sat under the stars, planning their future. The rings warmed in his hand. A reminder not of his loss, but of everything he had to live for, for her. He smiled.

"Thank you." He said quietly, looking up at Philippa who was watching Yennefer.

She nodded but didn't comment, sitting there for several more moments before rising to her feet and walking towards the door. Just as the doors were about to close behind her, she stopped.

"You're a lucky man, Geralt."

As Philippa left, the Witcher put the two rings back in their box which was sitting on one of the small tables beside the bed and vase of flowers and grabbed the fresh clothes which were neatly folded in the seat the Sorceress has just vacated. He quickly changed and put a blanket and some pillows down on the floor between the bed and Ciri. He kissed Yennefer on the cheek and lay down to sleep, at last, his body quickly giving into his exhaustion, leaving him no time to ponder Philippa's unusual generosity and concern.

When they awoke the next morning, they eat a hearty breakfast consuming the many gifts of food brought along by friends, they sat and had a lengthy talk. It wasn't easy, but it was a step forward. They planned the funeral. It took place three days after the incident.

* * *

A lot of the mages had stayed on to pay their respects, as did those who fought beside Yennefer. Ciri and Geralt were pleasantly surprised when Nenneke showed up a day before the funeral, embracing them.

"Triss informed me," answered the Priestess as she let go of Geralt, smiling at the pair with her kind, motherly face, "I came here as fast as I could."

"I'm so happy to see you, Mother Nenneke, but why are you here?" Asked Ciri quietly, sitting back down on the sofa next to the bed, looking at the older woman who sat down beside her.

"Because I wanted to be here for you two," she said, squeezing Ciri's hand, "and because I wanted to apologise to Yennefer." She looked at the figure sadly. "I thought I knew her as well as I needed to, but I was foolish, I wanted to apologise for ever doubting her, and you too, Geralt, and to say goodbye."

"Thank you, Nenneke." Said the Witcher, perching on the edge of the bed. "We could use your help, please, with the funeral."

"Anything I can do."

* * *

The funeral took place under the stars, on the large open balcony outside the central hall where the Gathering had taken place. On the edge of the balcony, in front of a large brazier bursting with fire and overlooking the sea, were a pile of logs neatly stacked to form a narrow rectangle and on top of this pile were soft, violet silk sheets that hung over the sides decorated with gold and silver thread upon which Yennefer's body lay, her head resting against the pillows as her elegant dress fluttered slightly in the breeze, her obsidian star shining on her neck. Thick, beautiful ivy grew around the logs, twisting around the wood in wonderful patterns and violet, white and black flowers of many varieties were embedded in its surface, as though the body was resting once more in her garden. The sleeping fairy-tale Princess.

A silent crowd formed around her, Triss, Nenneke, Eskel, Lambert, Keira, Zoltan, Dandelion, Priscilla, Philippa, Rita, Cerys, Hjalmar, Ermion, Roche, Ves, the Lodge and other colleagues, one by one laying more flowers down beside her, placing them at the base of the pile, on her bed, or in-between the logs until the air was full of their sweet scent of lilac and gooseberries, as magic burned on their petals. As the congregation grew still Ciri and Geralt stepped out from the crowd, to stand before Yennefer, to say their farewells. They took a deep breath.

"Yen, when you departed from this world, you asked Ciri, and I, to forgive you for leaving us." Said Geralt slowly, holding the younger woman's hand. "You valued our lives, our safety, before your own and for that, there is nothing to forgive. We could never be angry at you Yen, for being a caring mother, and for making this Witcher feel human again, your love does not need forgiveness." He took another deep breath, Ciri smiling at him encouragingly.

"When I proposed to you, I made a promise to always be by your side, to never leave you alone and to love you forever, and I'll keep those promises. I don't know what to do without you, Yen…I'm lost…but, I'll do whatever it takes to look after those you left behind, too care for them in your place, I'll keep my promise to you."

From his pocket, Geralt pulled out his wedding band which was hung on a delicate silver chain and placed it around his neck, glancing at the inscription on the inside, ' _Forever Your Yen'_ , and holding it tightly in his grip as he kissed her goodbye on the forehead.

"I'll never forget you, Yen, I am forever yours. I love you." He stepped back, squeezing Ciri's hand as he smiled reassuringly at her, she nodded.

"Mother, you were always there for me when I needed you." She said, nervously playing with the swallow on her necklace, which hadn't once left her side. "You never complained when I shouted out my worries and dropped in out of the blue, you always had time to listen and you always knew what to say. You always had faith in me, and I promise that I'll never forget that and that I won't let you down."

Slowly, tears stinging her eyes, she walked up to Yennefer holding her hand as she kissed her on the cheek.

"'Like Mother like daughter' that's what Geralt likes to say… I couldn't even dream of being half the woman you were, but I know I won't stop trying to be so and hopefully one day I will prove deserving of your unwavering faith and love. Goodbye, Mother, I love you."

As she stepped away she gladly walked into Geralt's embrace and they didn't want let go as Triss and Nenneke said their short farewells. The time for them to let go had come far too early. Ciri and Geralt walked over to the brazier, lighting their torches in the fire, walking over to the body, hand in hand as they lowered their torches to the pile of logs upon which the sleeping beauty, dressed in white and black slept eternally.

"Goodbye, Yen." Whispered Geralt as he watched the violet flames engulf his lost beloved, their gentle roar the only sound to relieve the mournful silence as they tried desperately to push aside the darker thoughts plaguing their minds because they knew this farewell was not final. Her body was laid to rest, her physical presence removed while her spirit burned in hell. She was not gone but impossibly far away. Geralt knew the thought would haunt him until his last breath.

So wound up in their own minds, lost in the darkness which had settled upon their souls since that night, none noticed the two unannounced guests, a man and a woman, sitting cross-legged on the balcony's stone railing, hands in their lap as they watched the scene before them unfold with inhuman indifference.

"They will unequivocally go after her, we can use them." Said the man, turning to face his companion who nodded.

"Of that I am certain. Let us return to the others, the plan must be formulated and approved. It will be a while before O'Dimm faces justice, let us hope her loved ones do not fall prey to their own mortality in that time." Concluded the woman, hopping down from her perch and walking through the crowd of people without drawing a single gaze.

"Agreed." Said the other as he followed suit. "I would question whether it would be safer to inform them now, but hope for them seems almost as dangerous as this pitiful sorrow."

As the two mysterious figures vanished, leaving no trace of their presence behind even in memories, the body they had created went up in fire. Yennefer's empty vessel rested elsewhere, under their protection. They would need it intact if they were to restore her soul back to her body or as these mortals would perceive it, to bring her back to life…

* * *

_To Hope_  - John Keats: **Chapter 1, Hope**

And as, in sparkling majesty, a star

Gilds the bright summit of some gloomy cloud;

Brightening the half veil'd face of heaven afar:

So, when dark thoughts my boding spirit shroud,

Sweet Hope, celestial influence round me shed,

Waving thy silver pinions o'er my head!

* * *

_ To Be continued in… _ The Realm of Glass

When Yennefer died, her body left empty, her soul willingly offered to O'Dimm to clear Geralt's debt, hope was lost, but now, there's a chance, a deal to bring her home. All they have to do, is go to hell and back.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys, hope you liked the latest and final chapter of Promises of Love, and Death. Did I not say there was light at the end of the tunnel! Come on, you didn't actually think I'd kill her…right? (I mean though technically she is dead, but she isn't, but she is…I dunno :P)
> 
> Now, firstly I'd like to reassure everyone that I WILL FINISH THIS STORY! The reason I have split it in two is because (1) quite honestly, I was hoping it might help me get more readers…? There is a weird logic here I promise, and (2) I had the last six chapters of this story written six weeks ago, and in those six weeks I have written…one…chapter… 0_0
> 
> With Uni preparations, going out and working now 5 days a week (when I'm employed as a Saturday worker, so much overtime money!) I've not had the time and with my move to University on the horizon my life is in a bit of a (not necessarily bad) turmoil.
> 
> I want to be able to update on a regular basis, every week or two weeks and the fact that part 2 is going to be very complicated (for me) and the fact I like to be several chapters ahead of my published story (because I often change things around, add new things etc.) AND with the settling in with, you know, strangers and having to socialise (ahhhhhhhh!) I've decided it's best to postpone the story for a short while.
> 
> The Realm of Glass should begin around Mid-October, I urge people to follow my Tumblr for updates (Eileniessa is my everything blog and Eileniessa's Creative Blog is my just art and writing related blog, take your pick) I might also post snippets up there of the story and, if people would like, answer questions on this story, my other works and about the upcoming one, perhaps even talk about my…writing journey? I don't know how to put it… but anyhow I would absolutely love to talk about all this! Please…
> 
> My thanks to vic-of-thor and daisyofgalaxy11 (Tumblr) for all the kind words and support and to korbel05 (Fanfiction) for all the feedback and suggestions. This story would be nothing without you guys and I hope to see you soon in The Realm of Glass.
> 
> And thank you all so much for sticking with me, I cannot even begin to describe the ineffable joy I have felt reading all the lovely comments and messages, confidence has never been one of my strong points but I can say, with a hand on my heart, that you guys have made some changes in my personal life in that regard.
> 
> Until next time guys, love you all, Eileniessa xx


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